


Turning Tables

by kd_ob



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dumbledore Bashing, Gen, Manipulative Dumbledore, Multi, Slytherin Harry Potter, Weasley Bashing, Wizarding Politics, explicitly gay characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kd_ob/pseuds/kd_ob
Summary: After winning a disposable camera, Harry blackmails the Dursley's with photos of his abuse, forcing them to begin treating him decently. A much more cunning and manipulative player in his own right, Harry enters the wizarding world and will not play anyone's martyr. Britain's wizarding world will never be the same.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite and continuation of a story I wrote on Fanfiction.net by the same name. I started the story in 2014 so the beginning, despite my rewrites, is not quite as well written as I hope later chapters will be.

**Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey April-May 1988**

Harry Potter was much smarter than the average eight year old. This wasn't because he read a lot of books, it was because he understood people. Understanding people's motivations and actions would usually be quite the feat for an eight year old but Harry learned to read people because it was essential for his survival. Being able to tell what mood his aunt, uncle and cousin were in could mean the difference between being locked in his cupboard for a week without food or an impossibly long list of chores. He also knew that his uncle was a lot smarter than he looked. Uncle Vernon would never hit him in a way that would leave marks and he had somehow managed to convince all of Harry's neighbors and teachers that an eight year old was the freaking anti-Christ, so that no one would ever offer Harry any help. Ironically, it was from his uncle who hated him so much that Harry learned the most about people and how to manipulate them.

Harry never held any illusions that he could make his family like him. In fact, his aunt told him this. Frequently. He also knew that normal children, even unwanted nephews thrust upon "respectable British citizens" after the death of their "deadbeat parents," didn't usually sleep in cupboards when they lived in a four bedroom house with three other people. Harry also observed that his aunt and uncle were lying about his parents, about what kind of people they were and how they died. He didn't notice it at first but the rants and tangents his aunt and uncle went off on often held discrepancies. The last and most important thing Harry discovered, was that he was a freak. Not a freak like his aunt insisted, but a freak in rather useful ways. How else could he survive a week without food, talk to garden snakes, grow back his hair overnight, or disappear and reappear on the school roof?

Even knowing these things Harry was stuck. Every escape from the Dursleys he had thought up wouldn't work, led to possibly worse results, or posed too great of a risk. This was until one day when an opportunity presented itself at school. That day there was a substitute teacher whose opinion of Harry had not been soiled by the lies his uncle spread about him. Harry wasn't going to tell on his family to the teacher. He suspected his uncle could talk, or if it came down to it bribe, his way out of trouble if it was just Harry's word against his and Harry would be much worse off. No, the opportunity was a trivia quiz, more specifically the prize for winning this quiz: a disposable camera (along with some other irrelevant treats.) Normally Harry kept his head down in school and never called attention to himself. He made sure his worked scored lower than Dudley, who really was as stupid as the beached baby whale he resembled, because doing better than "precious Duddykins" would earn his aunt's wrath. But he needed that camera.  
Harry was not extraordinarily book smart, mainly because he wasn't allowed to have them at home but he was smarter than most of his classmates (really when no one will be your friend and your cousin's favorite game is Harry Hunting there wasn't much else to do but pay attention in class). That being said, Harry easily won the trivia quiz and the camera.

When he got home Dudley threw a pathetic blubbering fit to Aunt Petunia. Naturally, she was furious. She took away Harry's prizes (except for the camera which Harry had hidden in his extremely baggy clothes in anticipation for the scene Dudley would cause) and whacked Harry heavily on the head with a wooden spoon. Even though the wound smarted badly Harry was nearly smiling. That would leave a bruise. His aunt then threw Harry into his cupboard shouting that he could forget about eating that weekend. Once in his cupboard Harry shoved his threadbare blanket against the door crack so the camera flash would not be seen and began taking photos of his living arrangements. He felt his head to see that a lump had formed where he was hit and he took a picture of that too. That night he went to sleep smiling even though his stomach was empty. The tables would soon be turning in the Dursley house.

* * *

Over the next month Harry documented and took photos of the abuse he suffered. His torn up hands and sunburnt skin after pulling weeds without gloves, more bruises and bumps he suffered from his cousin and sometimes aunt, burns from cooking, and even a dog bite he got from Aunt Marge's prized pet Ripper. Finally the film ran out and he was ready. He snuck money from Dudley's room who would hardly notice and few pounds missing, he went to the store after school to get the film developed (he had to walk home while Dudley rode with Aunt Petunia) and ordered two copies. The next day he went back and got them storing the negatives in case he would need more. When he got home he hid one of the copies in under a loose floorboard he had discovered when he had to clean Dudley's spare bedroom, hid the other in his cupboard and stowed the negatives in his desk at school when he went the next day.

The following night at supper he sat down at the table after serving his relatives, photos stashed in his baggy clothing.

"What do you think you're doing, Boy!?" barked Vernon.

Smiling Harry addressed his uncle who was the smartest and most reasonable of the bunch, "I think it's time we had a talk" he said casually and produced the photos, "You see, I don't think the police would approve of what they see here" Harry spread the pictures his uncles face reddening at each photo. Vernon glanced sharply at Petunia who he had told never to leave marks on the boy, Petunia paled.

"Well they're never going to see those," Vernon sneered cruelly, "Give them here boy or you won't eat or see daylight for a week!" He made a grab at the photos but Harry evaded him.

"Ah, ah, ah," Harry tutted, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Vernon gave Harry an assessing look. Harry had hardly ever talked back since he had learned better and was acting completely different than the meek broken boy he usually pretended to be around them. Even though Vernon had a fierce temper and severe hatred for Harry he was, after all, a business man.

"Why not boy?" he spat "Without them you have nothing, no one would ever believe you,"

"Because," Harry said smirking "These aren't my only copies." Vernon's eyes narrowed trying to read him. Harry could tell that Vernon was completely re-evaluating everything he knew about Harry Potter.

His aunt who had been blessedly silent so far spoke up, "We will just beat the location out of you, you freak. Then lock you up in your cupboard for a few days, you heal freakishly fast no one will ever know!"

Vernon shot Petunia a sharp look which caused her to flinch. She knew better than to interrupt him. He turned back to evaluate Harry, "Well boy, why shouldn't we do that?" He glared daggers at Harry, his eyes holding the promise that he could do just that without remorse.

Harry would have usually pretended to be intimidated by these looks but now he held Vernon's gaze and tilted his head smirking, "Because I would never tell you." As his uncle stared him down Harry could tell that his uncle believed it, "The school would get suspicious the longer I'm gone and the first day you let me out I would go straight to the police. Anything else you did to me would just be further proof. And if the police get involved…" Harry gave a mock worried face, "Oh no, what would the neighbors think?" he said playing right into Petunia's biggest fear.

Dudley who was watching the exchange like a television show, (most likely not understanding half of what was happening) got upset with being ignored for over five minutes punched Harry in the arm. Normally his parents would encourage this behavior or begin fawning over how tough and strong he would be when he was all grown up, now however Vernon pulled him away from Harry, "Stop it, boy." Shocked at being addressed by Harry's moniker Dudley began bawling and whining. Harry who had not stopped staring at Vernon had smirked pointedly after Dudley had hit him.

"Vernon what on earth-?" Petunia said fawning and cooing at the blubbering Dudley.

"Out. Get out," He said sharply, "And take Dudley with you" Petunia looked shocked by this but she was beginning to get disturbed by Harry's behavior. She obeyed Vernon ushering Dudley out of the room promising to take him for ice cream. "Well boy, what do you want?" Vernon was in his businessman mode that Harry had heard when he had clients over.

"Well, I'm not unreasonable," Harry said, "I just have a few requests. You see, I have no desire to go to foster care or an orphanage and you, I'm sure, have no desire to lose your job, get precious Duddykins taken away, or even go to jail," after a few seconds Vernon nodded reluctantly ceding the point. "All I want is the guest bedroom, regular meals, clothes that fit, and I will do the same amount of chores as Dudley and if you want me to do more I would like to be paid. But ultimately what I want, is to be left alone. If you stay out of my way I will stay out of yours."

Vernon thought hard evaluating his options. He knew if those photos got to the police he could lose Dudley and his job, the thought of going to prison with all the riff-raff was enough to make him shudder. He could try to bribe his way out with the police but that would almost undoubtedly fail. He could also throw Petunia under the bus because he hardly ever hit the boy and try to get custody of Dudley, but he loved his wife and he would probably lose his job and reputation in the fall out. It would also make it look like he couldn't control his wife (he had old-fashioned views about women). Really, he didn't have much of a choice.

"You can't have the guest room we need that for company. You can use Dudley's spare bedroom. You will buy secondhand clothes with the money you make doing the yard work and that is my final offer." Vernon bluffed. Really if the boy persisted he would have to give him what he wanted.

Harry had known his uncle would make a counter offer so he had made higher demands than he thought he needed and was actually a little surprised by the offer. He could tell that he could get more out of Vernon but decided to let him feel like he had more control than he really did. He knew people liked to feel like they had some control.

"Agreed," Harry said offering his hand, "However I will be keeping the photos in case you forget our bargain." Vernon reached out and shook Harry's hand.

Vernon had gained a grudging respect for the boy over this exchange, 'He would make a fine business man' he thought 'if he wasn't a freak like his parents.' He still hated the boy and the freakishness he represented but now he would, at least, show more caution around him.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives his Hogwarts letter and a visit from a professor.

**Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey 24-25 July 1991**

Over the next three years Harry's life changed significantly. His uncle kept his word, much to the chagrin of his aunt and cousin. Soon after the deal Vernon had tried to teach Dudley how to do business although his attempts had failed spectacularly. That boy really was just stupid. Vernon stopped poisoning the teachers' opinions about Harry and Harry began to allow himself to excel in school. Harry found he actually enjoyed yard work once he had gardening gloves and was able to make enough money to pay for his needs. Harry hadn't really made any friends. He had plenty of friendly acquaintances and there were at least a handful of students who likely thought of him as their friends but he wasn't particularly attached to anyone. After all, the students were the same ones who had ignored him or helped Dudley bully him.

Harry was mostly ignored at home but that suited him just fine. "Freakish" things had happened with less frequency around him which seemed to cut down on the rants his aunt made. Harry was now allowed to attend business dinners and he proved to be adept at gaining the favor of clients. He was subtle enough that it was not obvious like Dudley's attempts ("I'm writing a paper in school about my hero and I chose you"). Uncle Vernon began to show him grudging respect and started to rant about politics and business to Harry instead of his wife because Harry actually understood him and gave him good ideas. Vernon even earned a promotion at work for using one of Harry's ideas (not that he ever admitted that, but Harry knew).

On the 24th of July Harry was confused and slightly alarmed to find a letter addressed to himself, which specified the comparative size of his bedroom, written in calligraphy with green ink on a heavy stock parchment envelope, genuinely sealed with wax. The letter inside invited him to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a supply list that included robes, cauldrons and a wand. Harry didn't know what to think of it. If he had friends perhaps he would have concluded it to be a joke and he couldn't see how such a convoluted scam could possibly work as his response was requested "by owl" whatever that meant. He tossed the creepy letter in his rubbish bin and pushed any thoughts of it from his mind.

The next morning when Dudley fetched the mail there were three more copies of the letter which Harry would have found alarming in and of themselves even without his aunt and uncle's reactions to them. Petunia let out a gasping shriek and Vernon turned a pasty white before rapidly turning a blotched puce. He jumped to his feet and all but shoved Harry and Dudley out of the kitchen, slamming the door. Dudley and Harry briefly scuffled to listen at the keyhole (a fight Harry could never have won considering the boys' respective body masses) before Harry gave it up and dropped to the ground to listen at the crack between the bottom of the door and the flooring.

Through the crack, Harry heard Vernon and Petunia discussing Them and Those Freaks in hushed voices. "I thought we had gotten rid of his freakishness!" Vernon said.

"It doesn't work that way," Petunia replied in an almost petulant tone.

From the almost forgotten recesses of his mind Harry began to recall every freakish thing that had happened around him—objects moving on their own, hair growing back overnight, disappearing in one place and reappearing in another, shrinking jumpers, the teacher's blue hair—and suddenly his world tilted on its axis. Harry had attempted to dismiss these events childish flights of fancy or—when that failed—so suppressed these memories that he had forgotten he had done so because almost any alternative had seemed more plausible than the idea that the laws of physics and reason simply could be broken around him, because of him.

Harry absent mindedly stood up, turned and walked up the steps to his room, shut the door and fished the letter out of the rubbish. By the time he was sitting at his desk staring at the letter he was furious with himself for his own stupidity. He had known he was a freak able to do "freakish" things but he just made himself forget because it didn't jive with his worldview? How stupid—how wasteful of him! A wizard? Even with the evidence of his own experience and his relatives' reactions he was having a hard time believing that. Harry stopped himself and took a deep breath. He pushed away his anger and frustration (not the memories this time!) and thought things over. Once he had calmed down he took out a pen and paper to reply to the letter:

> _Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_
> 
> _I would like to find out more about your school before committing to attend. I, to be quite frank, am skeptical to its existence because of its claim to be a school of witchcraft and wizardry. If you could please send information about your school it would be most appreciated. Thank you, and sorry for any inconvenience._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Harry Potter_

Rereading his letter, satisfied he didn't sound as insane as he felt, he only needed to figure out how to post it. He looked back the acceptance letter, "send by owl." What the heck did that even mean? He heard a hoot to his left and when he looked up he saw a barn own perched on outside of his window sill. He saw that it was fitted with a pouch bearing the same crest on it as his letter. Perhaps they are like carrier pigeons? Well why freaking not at this stage.

He leaned over and opened the window, "Um," Harry said feeling ridiculous for talking to a bird, "Do I er give this to you?" the owl hooted and nodded. Harry folded up his letter and placed it in the pouch. The bird promptly flew off.

* * *

 

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland July 26, 1991**

Minerva McGonagall burst into the headmaster's office fuming mad causing Fawkes to let out a startled squawk.

"Ah Minerva, would you care for a lemon drop?" Albus asked, ignoring her obvious distress.

"No Albus, I would not care for a ruddy lemon drop!" Her Scottish accent was beginning to bleed through with her temper, "Explain this!" she thrust a letter at Albus Dumbledore. He read it over infuriatingly slowly, "Well dear Harry seems like a well-mannered lad."

"Like a well-manner-?" she spluttered, "He didn't know anything about magic, Albus! Harry Potter knows nothing about magic! Are you sure those muggles are really suitable guardians?"

"I'm sure everything is perfectly fine Minerva." he looked at her imploringly "Do you really think so little of me that you think I would let young Harry live with unsuitable people?" he asked. Minerva looked abashed, "Well I will send our friend Hagrid over to show Harry around."

"Albus, send Hagrid?!" Albus began to interrupt, "Hagrid is my friend of course," she said, "No Hagrid is not the best choice to introduce someone into the wizarding world. I will go like I do with the muggleborn students. I won't take no for an answer, Albus." She said harshly and swept out of the office not leaving him anytime to reply.

Albus Dumbledore looked back at the letter from Harry. This was troubling. The letter was very well written and it sounded like the boy didn't have any help with it either. Regretfully, this was not good news. Albus, in general, liked to see his students succeed but if Harry was as intelligent as he sounded there could be major problems with The Plan. It was also too bad he wrote Minerva instead of him. Hagrid taking him to Diagon Alley was part of The Plan. He would have to introduce Harry to the Philosopher's Stone a different way now.

* * *

 

**Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey July 26, 1991**

Minerva McGonagall walked briskly down the street of Privet Drive for the first time in ten years wondering, not for the first time, if she had made a mistake back then. Harry Potter not knowing about magic? That should never have been allowed to happen. She was aware Privet Drive offered some very important protections for Harry but it remained to be seen if those protections were worth it. She was wearing a dark green muggle dress and didn't even garner a double look from any of the people on the street, she was much better at blending in than many of her colleges. Sending Hagrid? Now that would have been the height of folly! A man that size would stop muggle traffic.

As Minerva approached Number 4 she saw a boy out working in the garden. He had messy black hair, was rather slim and had wire-framed glasses that kept sliding down his sweating face. Harry noticed her pause at the gate and looked up. He flashed her a friendly smile, brilliant green eyes shining behind their frames

"Good morning ma'am, may I help you?" he asked.

Minerva was nearly stunned speechless by how much he reminded her of both James and Lily in that moment. "Yes I am looking for Mr. Harry Potter, I am a representative of a school that is interested in him," she said although she was aware she was speaking to Harry. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"You're speaking to him," he said removing his gloves and extending his hand. She shook it and introduced herself. "Come on inside my aunt and uncle are out now but will be back soon," Harry certainly hoped they wouldn't but was not about to tell her that. They walked inside and he led her to the sitting room, "Would you like some tea?" he asked.

"No thank you Mr. Potter. I am here from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I am here to introduce you to the wizarding world." She began to pull out pamphlets and brochures that were given to muggleborn students. She looked him in the eye, "Although I must confess I am surprised you do not already know of it"

Harry nodded, "I assume that's because at least one of my parents attended your school," McGonagall looked surprised that he had deduced this, "I was able to figure it out from what my relatives have said and the fact that you expected me to know."

"Yes, both of your parents went there in fact James and Lily were two of my favorite students" she saw Harry mouthing "James and Lily" as if to test the words out in his mouth. Suspicious she asked, "Do your relatives not talk about them at all?"

"It brings up bad memories, I think" he said not answering directly because yes, in fact his parents used to frequently be the topics of much discussion. However, he was also sure memories his aunt and uncle had of them would be classified as "bad". McGonagall nodded seeming to accept this. They went over the muggleborn brochures and talked about Hogwarts and the wizarding world.

When they reached the brochure that converted the expenses into British pounds, Harry made a small strangled noise, "Most families spend up to £15,000 on tuition and supplies?!" He knew the Dursley's wouldn't offer him two pence to learn magic, "Professor McGonagall, does Hogwarts offer any scholarships? Otherwise, I'm sorry but £15,000 a year for seven years is too much for us."

Professor McGonagall looked puzzled, "While scholarships are available for families who are unable to pay the costs out of pocket, I highly doubt that you would qualify, Mr. Potter. You are the last of the Potter family who are widely known to be amongst the top 20 wealthiest wizarding families in magical Britain."

Harry sat in a stunned silence for a moment then cleared his throat, "So… you're telling me… that I am actually extremely wealthy?"

Minerva smiled, although she was slightly shocked Harry hadn't known, "Yes, Mr. Potter, converted into muggle currency, you are likely a billionaire."

Harry sat mouth agape before breaking down into slightly hysterical laughter, thinking of all the extra chores he had done to earn a few extra pounds—all the while unknowingly being a freaking billionaire! This entire situation was becoming more and more surreal.

"So how do I access this alleged wealth?"

"Well, looking back to this brochure about wizarding currency, you present your key to the goblins and they will take to your vault."

"I don't have a key," Harry said.

"I have your key right here," Minerva said taking out the key Albus had given her and handing it to Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed when he saw it, "Now why would Hogwarts, the school, have my bank key?" he asked.

Minerva was a little taken aback and thought for a moment, "Well the headmaster Albus Dumbledore was very good friends with your parents and we need to get access to the account to pay for your schooling," she reasoned aloud while wondering to herself just why Albus had it.

"But I have not even confirmed that I'll attend Hogwarts yet. Surely you don't mean you have already taken my money out?" Harry said.

"I apologize Mr. Potter, but I must admit I do not know how the key came to be in the school's possession," Minerva eventually admitted, "It is a matter you will have to take up with the headmaster."

"I will," Harry said.

Wanting to get back on track, Minerva returned to talking about the benefits of Hogwarts and even transformed into her cat animagus to demonstrate the possibilities of magic. She was admittedly selling the school a little harder than she would normally due to the inexplicable key incident and the fact that the Harry Potter would absolutely have to attend Hogwarts.

When her visit was concluding she asked, "So, Mr. Potter, will Hogwarts be seeing you this September?"

Admittedly awed by the display, Harry readily agreed.

"Would you like for me to wait until your aunt and uncle get home?" she asked. They, thankfully, hadn't come home during the meeting. Harry politely declined and assured her he could tell them everything.

"Oh and Mr. Potter, you will find that you name and image are quite famous in the wizarding world so don't be alarmed if you receive some attention," He nodded and she left leaving Harry with a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story my Dumbledore is a manipulative SoB (not like that's new.) He has an extremely skewed idea of right and wrong but he believes he is really doing everything for the best
> 
> Cost of schooling: this is 1991 and I wanted to make the cost high but not by too much. I'm not sure how I did on that if anyone knows more about boarding school prices in that decade let me know. Like where would all the money go anyway? The school is mostly kept up by house elves, there are ridiculously few professors, magic seems is used to do a heck of a lot, and the school seems to even create lucrative products like the mandrakes.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains quotes take directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

**Chapter 3 Diagon Alley, London 31 July 1991**

When his relatives arrived home Harry informed his uncle that he would be attending the school his parents went to, going out of his way not to mention words like "wizards" and "magic" to prevent a scene. "Magic" was a cuss word in Number 4 Privet Drive. His uncle reluctantly allowed it, (as if he could have stopped Harry) after Harry told him that it was all paid for and reminded him that he would be out of the Dursleys' way for ten months a year. Harry still had to find his own way to London for shopping and the train, but that was fine by him.

Harry decided to go supply shopping on his birthday as a treat for himself. He had thought about what McGonagall had said about his name and image being famous and decided to alter his appearance a little. He had heard her describe his father having wild black hair and glasses and his mom's bright green eyes. He couldn't do anything about the glasses before accessing his billions(!) of pounds at Gringotts, but he decided to get his hair trimmed shorter. He discovered that it did not look so wild cut short. It did, however, end up making the scar on his forehead more easily seen. He figured his scar was rather distinctive trait and that people might know about it, so he put on some of his aunts makeup over it and flopped on a cap for good measure.

Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron early that morning and marveled how such an apparently important landmark could look like such a dump. He followed a family into the back alley and watched as the mother tapped the bricks with her wand and opened the archway revealing Diagon Alley.

'Now this is a magical alley' he thought in appreciation looking in awe at the bright colors and activity happening in Diagon Alley. He had to consciously stop himself from gaping. Harry knew from his relatives, who were extreme xenophobes, that looking like a foreigner is not always appreciated. He figured some wizards might feel the same way.

While looking around (more discreetly now) he saw a sign over Flourish and Blotts that alarmed him. "HARRY POTTER, THE BOY-WHO-LIVED BIRTHDAY SALE" Harry stared at it shocked. 'I'm famous for  _living?'_  he thought incredulously. Harry began to realize that McGonagall's warning had been a massive understatement. He also began to feel stupid for coming here on his birthday.

Harry entered the shop with his head ducked and went over to the section labeled with his name and apparent moniker. He picked up a book  _Harry Potter Adventure Series: Harry Potter and the Ghastly Ghoul_  it had an illustration on the cover that was actually pretty close to what he looked like when he was younger, down to the round-frame glasses he had gotten in primary school.

He flipped the book over. The back advertised that the novel was about Harry's 5th birthday party when he rescued unsuspecting party-goers from a terrifying ghoul. 'Jesus Christ,' he thought 'are there any solicitors in the wizarding world?' he distinctly remembered hiding from Marge's dog Ripper in a tree on his 5th birthday, certainly not battling a ghoul. He glanced at some of the other books in this "Adventure Series" some of the titles included  _Harry Potter and the Dreadful Dragon_ and _Harry Potter and the Horrible Hipogriff._ 'Wizards sure seem fond of alliteration,' he thought wryly. He picked up a more educational looking book to see just what it was that he had become famous for.

"On October 31, 1981 He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked the Potter's house. Little did he know he would meet his match in young Harry! Harry battled and defeated the Dark Lord ending his reign of terror leaving Harry unharmed except for his legendary lightning bolt scar. Every Halloween the wizarding world rejoices and celebrates the anniversary of the defeat of You-Know-Who." the book then continued, almost as if as an afterthought, "Harry's parents James and Lily Potter did not survive the attack."

Harry decided then and there that the wizarding world was, all-in-all, rather daft. He flipped through the book and learned about this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He decided if someone defeated this Dark Lord it certainly wasn't him. From what he heard from Professor McGonagall he had pretty normal cases of accidental magic, maybe a bit above average, but nothing of the "Dark Lord defeating" caliber. Harry thought it was much more likely his parents had done something, even if they ended up being killed. Harry decided to get to the bank and made a note to get in touch with a good solicitor.

There was photograph of his family that accompanied the talk about that night at Godric's Hallow. It was the first photo of his parents he could remember seeing. His father did look shockingly similar to him with black unkempt hair and wire-framed glasses. His mother had auburn hair and a slender frame, but he could not see her eyes in the picture as they were focused on the tiny black-haired bundle in his dad's lap.

Harry went back out into the alley and saw an imposing building down the street that had to be bank and started towards it. He saw a sign on the building that read:

_Enter Stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry was not completely surprised to see to goblins at the tellers in the bank because he had seen a picture in one of the brochures McGonagall brought. (The pictures moved!) From what little he knew about goblins, Harry knew that the threat outside the bank was very true. Perhaps some goblins even wished for some fool to try to steal from them. He figured peacetime for warrior races must be rather dull. He moved to one of the bank tellers. When it was his turn he approached the teller holding out his key, "Sir, I would like to make a withdrawal and inquire about the state of my account" the goblin examined the key and looked at him with narrowed eyes. Worried, Harry prayed calling him 'sir' was not an insult to a goblin.

"Griphook!" the teller called out, another goblin came over promptly, "Take Mr. Potter to his vault and then to his account manager." Harry followed Griphook out of the room and onto what looked like a mining cart. The cart shot off at breakneck speeds. Harry had to grip his seat tightly to keep from toppling over. The cart took them speeding through twists and turns in the extensive cave system and- 'Wait, was that a dragon?' When they finally reached the vault Harry had really begun to enjoy himself.

Harry was floored when his vault opened with its green smoke billowing out. He had never seen so much gold in his life! After collecting himself he looked around at the mountains of gold, silver and bronze coins wondering how he was going to carry enough, he hadn't brought a bag. "We can offer a bag linked to your vault for ten Galleons," Griphook said as if in answer.

Harry turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, "That's a pretty steep price, what features would it give me" Griphook smiled, he seemed to approve of Harry's caution.

"There is a feather-light, anti-theft and anti-wear charm on it and being directly linked to your account you would not have to visit your vault each time you made a withdrawal."

Harry nodded if all that was true it seemed like it could be worth it. First though, he asked if there were any other similar items, he didn't want to be swindled and it would be a wise business tactic to offer the more expensive option first.

Griphook's smile widened, "There is another bag for 2 Galleons that is not linked to your vault but has all the other features so you would have to return to refill it and a credit card that costs 15 Galleons to set up and charges interest on payments."

Harry smiled. He was right, "I believe the second bag would do well for me. I will be in school most of the year so I would not need to withdraw a lot of money." Griphook nodded and produced a black bag from a compartment on the cart. Harry ended up putting in more than he thought he would need but he was hoping to exchange some of the money to buy some contacts in the muggle world or 'Perhaps there are eye care solutions in the wizarding world?' he thought. The ride back to the bank was just as fast even though it was up hill. He loved magic.

When Harry and Griphook got back up to the surface Harry was led to an official looking office, "Your account manager will see you now, good day Mr. Potter" Harry was taken aback. The literature had warned that goblins were not big on niceties and formalities and here just now there was a goblin wishing him good day!

"Thank you, Griphook" Harry responded a bit too late as Griphook had already walked away. Harry knocked on the door to his account manager's office and a voice beckoned him inside. The goblin sitting at a desk was older than Griphook or the teller and obviously of higher rank and his clothes were more elaborate. The sign on his desk read Gornuk.

"So you are here to discuss your accounts?" Gornuk asked.

"Yes, kind of, I actually wanted to meet with you today because I had just found out about the magical world recently," he called it the magical world instead of wizarding to sound more inclusive, "I hadn't even known I had a single account until I was given a key to it by a school official. I'm a little worried about why Hogwarts would even have my key to begin with and I wanted to know if I can see if there are any other keys in circulation."

Gornuk looked incensed and Harry prayed he wasn't being presumptuous, "You were not aware of your accounts here? Have you not been receiving our correspondence?"

"No, sir. My first correspondence with the magical world was my Hogwarts letter," Harry replied.

"That is highly unusual. As for the key, only legal and magical guardians should have access to your keys." Gornuk glared at Harry.

"My muggle guardians don't have a key or I probably would have empty vaults. Are you sure I have a magical guardian? I have never been in contact with anyone." Gornuk glared at him a bit longer and Harry stared right back refusing to back down. Letting out a sigh of frustration Gornuk seemed to decide that Harry was being truthful.

"Every child from magical families has a magical guardian even when they are orphaned. Muggleborn children receive them once they are sorted into the Hogwarts houses. If you have not been receiving mail or been learning about the magical community I'm afraid a great disservice has been done to you. We can do something about the mail and can recall all other keys. However, I'm afraid you will have to contact the Ministry to find out who your magical guardian is. Gringotts is a separate nation and we do not have access to that information. Your ignorance is especially worrying because you will become the Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House Potter when you turn fourteen." Harry's eyes widened.

"Wait, noble? Am I in the line of succession?"

"No, the Potters lost their status as British nobility once the Statute of Secrecy went into effect."

"So it's just an empty title then?" Harry said, disappointed.

"Certainly not. As a head of a noble house you have a seat on the Wizarding legislative and judicial bodies, as a Most Ancient and Noble Head you have a higher rank and hold more votes. Additionally you are provided with special protection by many laws."

Harry was blown away. Harry had always loved politics and secretly wished to someday be a politician. He never thought this dream would actually be realized but here in the wizarding world he apparently already had a government seat!

Harry left the bank in shock. Gornuk had given him reading materials on his financial duties as head of house and an account statement. Goblins could not remove wizarding enchantments (which seemed like a pretty stupid law but what's the saying? To the victor, the spoils.) Instead he was given a postal box that he could place mail in and it would be transported to a corresponding one in Gringotts and vice versa. Harry also found out he was extremely wealthy. His family vault held 703,903,342 Galleons 11 Sickles and 8 Knuts. The vault he had visited was a trust vault holding 20,000 Galleons and he thought that was a huge pile of gold! He had several properties across Europe and equity in several businesses.

* * *

Harry decided he should go to the robe shop next. He had received some dirty looks for his attire and Harry suspected some shopkeepers might try to swindle him if he was dressed like a muggle. At Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions Harry was getting fitted for a robe when a pale boy with platinum blond hair stalked into the fitting room. The boy seemed ill-mannered and spoiled and was obviously wealthy. Harry assumed he must have a high status from his entitled behavior and the way the employees tolerated it.

The boy noticed him and looked him up and down, sneering slightly, "Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying books and my mother's up the street looking for wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I can't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

'God this kid is annoying,' thought Harry. But Harry continued to feign interest in the conversation about brooms and quidditch because he had no need for enemies and this boy obviously held status.

Harry would not be able to tolerate this conversation much longer. However he felt a bit relieved that this boy was acting so unbecoming of his status because that meant Harry probably hadn't made too large of a social faux pas yet.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?" the boy asked.

Harry was glad the boy gave him a chance to take over the conversation. McGonagall had talked about house qualities (with a ringing endorsement for Gryffindor and a pinched, disapproving description of Slytherin) "Probably Slytherin," Harry shrugged, "but I suppose I could be suited for Ravenclaw" he doubted it he was ambitious and had plenty of cunning.

"I will be in Slytherin my whole family has been- imagine being sorted in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry honestly thought Hufflepuff got a bad reputation he was a hard-worker and loyalty was certainly valuable but you can't go around talking about teaching "the rest" and not expect to be considered a house for left-overs, "I wouldn't be pleased that's for sure," he said truthfully.

"Where are your parents?" the boy asked.

"Dead" Harry responded.

"Oh sorry," the boy said unapologetically, "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

Harry honestly didn't think this boy could make it in Slytherin, he was about as subtle as an oncoming bus, "Of course," he said.

Thankfully Madame Malkin interrupted informing the blond boy that his fitting was over. The boy stalked out of the store strutting off toward the quidditch shop.

Once Harry's fitting was complete Harry consulted with Made Malkin on what else to purchase and in what materials. He ended up ordering a lot things: both school wear and casual robes. He decided to go with one of the medium priced materials because he didn't want to look sloppy (and hell he had money to burn) but also didn't want to waste money on robes he'd outgrow in a year. Before leaving he changed into one of the sets of casual robes an emerald-green that apparently brought out his eyes, whatever that means.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland**

Albus sighed. Things were not looking good for The Plan. Minerva and Mrs. Figg's news were concerning to say the least. From what Mrs. Figg said his Plan started to go wrong about three years ago. Apparently it seemed like the Dursley household's structure had seemingly flipped overnight. It had been discreet enough that no one but Mrs. Figg had really noticed, but her job  _was_  to keep an eye on them after all.

Albus was angry Mrs. Figg had not informed him of the change sooner but she had been pleased with it and didn't think it necessary to mention the positive change. What was he supposed to tell Mrs. Figg? Make sure the boy is meek, gullible and naïve? No he couldn't let anyone know his Plan. It was his burden and he would not wish it on another.

The fact that the household changed so quickly was concerning for entirely different reasons. Did the boy threaten them with magic? Albus experienced flashbacks to orphanages and flaming wardrobes. 'No, that much of Tom should not be able to influence Harry it had to be something else' he thought hoping he wasn't being naïve to do so. Minerva's report on the boy worried him for more manageable reasons. Apparently the boy was extraordinarily well-mannered and polite. However, he was sharp as a whip and perceptive. Her questioning him about why he had Harry's vault key was proof enough of that. He would have to amend the plan for next year, he couldn't have Harry catching on.

Albus sighed he felt as if a little more of his soul had just darkened, Fawkes crooned sympathetically. 'The things I do for the Greater Good' he mourned. He wished he didn't have to manipulate Harry this way but he had no control over fate and he no longer held any foolish notion from his youth that he could gain control over death.

* * *

**Diagon Alley, London, July 31, 1991**

Harry went to Flourish and Blotts next to get his required texts. Harry ended up leaving the bookstore with loaded down with books and with much lighter pockets (or he would have except, well, magic.) On top of his school books Harry bought a few books about wizarding tradition, history, the Wizengamot, and the Ministry of Magic. He also bought Professor McGonagall's suggested supplemental texts for potions which was essentially guidelines for how things reacted when mixed together and techniques for brewing.

At the shopkeeper's suggestion he went to buy a trunk next. He got a fairly standard trunk with a few special charms that made it feather-light and doubled its internal space. He bought his potions ingredients at Slug & Jiggers, quills from Scribbulus Writing Instruments, a cauldron from Portage's and a telescope, scales and vials from Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Luckily no one had recognized him so far.

Around noon Harry decided to treat himself to some Florean Fortescue ice cream. He sat outside to people-watch. He affirmed what he had seen earlier. Those dressed as muggles were often treated with disdain and street vendors were more likely to approach them. It also looked as if no one had bothered to tell them some nice magical features like feather-light bags. This didn't sit particularly well with Harry but not completely unfamiliar kind of behavior. When an Asian family moved into their neighborhood he had to endure a lot of racist and historically inaccurate rants from his aunt and his uncle's least favorite coworker was a younger black man whose only faults, from what Harry could determine, were being more successful than Vernon and not being white. Harry supposed it would be foolish and naïve to assume the wizarding world was without its own prejudices.

Harry also observed a lot of posturing on the part of the wealthier looking shoppers. He saw the blond boy and what he assumed were his parents (although they looked more like siblings than husband and wife). He gathered that they were an unpleasant lot and was no longer surprised at the boy's behavior. The whole family sneered and strutted across the alley. They rather reminded Harry of peacocks. 'Well perhaps albino peacocks,' he thought 'Although with that robe the Missus was wearing…'

After finishing up his ice cream Harry went over to Ollivander's. The shop looked dusty and ill kept although it was the only wand shop in the alley. 'Perhaps people pay for the experience?'

"Good afternoon" called a voice causing Harry to jump. An old man came out of the back of the shop his eyes shone in the dim lighting. He gave off a very disarming aura.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly, put off-balance by Ollivander's strange presence.

"Ah yes," said the man, "Yes, ye. I thought I would be seeing you quite soon. Harry Potter," It wasn't a question, "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

'Yeah people definitely pay for the experience maybe some "let's go haze the kids" thing' Harry thought. He was glad he was the only one in the shop. Ollivander was the first to recognize him all day.

Ollivander moved closer to him never once blinking his large silvery eyes, "Your father on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for wand-transfiguration. Well I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr Ollivander came so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And here, under your hat, that's where…" Mr. Ollivander reached up with a long, white finger and touched Harry's hat right over his scar.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well if I had known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" He shook his head. The store lapsed into silence

"Er, well I'd like to buy a wand for myself today. This is my wand hand," Harry said holding up his right arm hoping Ollivander would take the hint. A tape measure began measuring everything it could find. Ollivander talked about wands and their cores and dismissed the tape measure when it started measuring Harry's nostrils.

An hour later Harry felt like he had tested the entire shop Ollivander kept getting more and more excited when finally, "Holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple." When Harry grasped this wand a warmth spread through him and golden sparks shot from the end of it. "Oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well… how curious…how very curious" He continued to mutter "curious" over and over.

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

Harry left the shop a few Galleons lighter after buying his wand and a wrist holster. Next Harry headed towards a shop he had noticed earlier, Onella's Ocular Solutions. When Harry opened the door, the bells at the top of the door rang out. Harry puzzled over whether this was a muggle influenced addition or just something shared in common.

Shortly after entering the shop a woman came out of a side door to what Harry assumed was her office. She appeared to be middle aged with red hair and prominent brown eyes, "Hello, I'm Onella. How may I help you today?" she asked.

Harry pointed at his glasses, "I was wondering what options are out there to help with my vision."

"Are you a new customer?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then we'll just have to create a file for you. Your name and date of birth?"

Harry paused but decided to be honest as there was no one else in the shop and hopefully wizards had some sort of patient-doctor (er—healer) confidentiality agreement, "Harry James Potter, 31 July 1980," Harry said with some reluctance.

Onella's brows raised and she gave Harry another look but, to her credit, didn't say anything or start freaking out. She smiled, "Mr. Potter, you already do have a file here. It is good to see you again. You and your father were both patients of mine."

"Oh, well that's lucky I guess," Harry said.

Onella frowned, "I suppose you could say that. We will have to update some information. Who should I list as your emergency contact?"

Harry gave a small forced laugh, "What's the likelihood my treatment here will cause an emergency… should I be scared?" he joked, a bit nervous.

Onella looked at him seriously, "Highly unlikely but it's required."

Harry identified Vernon as his emergency contact and gave his phone number (and had to explain he had no floo or "normal" ha! means of contact.)

They finished creating Harry's file and went back into her office which looked remarkably similar to a normal doctor's office.

"Mr. Potter, I examined you when you were so young due to an inherited eye illness the Potter family and other magical families are known to suffer from. The disease is known as Maugris' Disease."

"So what does that mean?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Although there is no perfect cure, Maugris is a treatable condition that often will require a special kind of glasses later in life although other options exist when one is younger, before the degeneration has progressed," she said, "I'm going to cast a diagnostic charm on you to see how your vision is now," Onella pulled out her wand and waved it in a dizzying pattern. After she finished glowing symbols that Harry could make neither heads nor tails of appeared.

Onella sat down on her stool, "Luckily your case does not appear to be severely progressed which is fortunate since you have not seen a magical healer in over 10 years. At this stage your vision can be corrected by eyeglasses or temporary corrective potions. Once it is further progressed, which will likely only happen once you reach middle age, the special lenses will be required as potions will no longer be able to fully correct your vision."

Harry found this news slightly daunting, but hell on the balance of good vs. bad news today, he would take glasses when he got older in exchange for a freaking government seat.

"What would you like to do to correct you vision at this stage?" she cast another charm over his glasses, "Your glasses would work for likely another couple years or we could look into the potion."

Harry asked to learn more about the potion which he would have to put drops of into his eyes once a week. Thinking of how similar he looked to his father with the glasses and how annoying glasses could be, he decided to go with the potion. He signed up for that option and learned that his potion would be delivered to Hogwarts by owl monthly.

Harry's last stop in the alley was Eeylops Owl Emporium. He had saved it for last because he doubted any shop keeps would be thrilled if he tried to bring an animal into their shop. He had decided that an owl would be by far the most useful pet. When he entered the shop an owl immediately caught his eye. It was a beautiful snowy owl and unlike the other owls it was sitting calmly in its cage staring right back at him. Harry knew that this owl would be easily identifiable which could cause problems but he was entranced. He bought her and named her Hedwig. When he told her this she hooted in what seemed like approval.

* * *

 

Harry spent the rest of the summer practicing writing with a quill and reading the books he bought. Harry ended up sending Hedwig to order more books about politics and to subscribe to the  _Daily Prophet,_  some magazines, and some political journals. Harry spent some time reading old political journals and essays.

He was a bit surprised to learn that wizarding politics had not changed all that much in the past centuries. The Wizard's Council was created at the beginning of the 12th Century and was lead by powerful wizarding families. The families heads of households were given seats on the Council and were given the title of lords. Over time different families joined the Council or died out although older families were given more power. With the imposition of the Statue of Secrecy in 1692, the Council found itself unable to keep up with all that it now needed to to and the Ministry of Magic was formed and the Council tranistioned to the Wizengamot in 1707. The Wizengamot created legislation and acted as the government's judiciary and elected the minister. There was no equivalent to the House of Commons and no position was elected by the general public. Families could only gain seats in the Wizengamot if it voted to accept them. Individuals could gain seats for their lifetimes if they were awarded Orders of Merlin First Class.

Culturally, the wizarding world was also behind muggle Britain. Ironically, if not for the magic thing, Harry thought the Dursley's would fit right into the wizarding world. Harry was able to discern, as it was not explicitly stated anywhere, that women seemed to be expected to stop working once the married and continuing to work after they had children and before they left home was nearly taboo. Wizards seemed very xenophobic towards muggles although race and nationality didn't seem to be as big of a deal. The anti-muggle prejudice seem to gain support leading up to, during and following World War II (which Harry found out a Dark Lord named Grindelwald was involved in.) Some wizards considered muggles to be filth and muggleborns were the lowest rung on the social ladder. Blood purity was a major political issue and the basis of You-Know-Who's campaign (he couldn't find this guy's name  _anywhere_  which surprised him because if any name should be feared he would have thought it would be Grindelwald. Much more people were killed during his rule and muggles hadn't even noticed You-Know-Who's actions). more books on the current political scene and read up on the Potter family and their allies and foes.

After having found out about the whole Boy-Who-Lived phenomenon Harry had elected not to contact the Ministry yet to ask about his magical guardian. It would probably cause a big scandal if the news got out and he wanted to avoid that. Harry also decided to wait until the school year to ask around for a good solicitor. He wanted those Harry Potter Adventure books off the shelves or, at the very least, a significant portion of their profit.

Finally, after what felt like ages, it was the 31st of August. Harry was so excited about Hogwarts he hardly got a wink of sleep that night.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's journey on the Hogwarts Express and his Sorting.

**King's Cross Station, London, England 1 September 1991**

Harry arrived at Platform 9 ¾ about a half an hour before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave. He figured the platform would be busiest then and it would be well into crunch time for parents to say good-bye to their kids. He was hoping this would help him to avoid being recognized. He had covered his scar up again and wore a baseball cap. He also put on some of his shabbier clothes he used to garden hoping people would assume a celebrity, like he apparently was, would only wear the best of the best.

He got on the platform easily enough, as McGonagall had given detailed instructions, and he quickly made his way onto the train and found an unoccupied compartment. He easily lifted his trunk up on the rack, extremely glad it was equipped with a feather-light charm. He sat down and pulled out a book that held a collection of political essays and began reading. After around fifteen minutes the train started to move and Harry let out a sigh of relief. If his luck held he could avoid people discovering who he was until that evening.

The compartment door opened suddenly, causing Harry to start. He looked up to find a tall, redheaded boy in rather mismatched muggle attire, "Have you seen Harry Potter?" the boy asked rudely.

"Why?" Harry asked looking back at his book. Hopefully the boy hadn't really gotten a good look at him.

The redhead's ears turned red but he pretended not to be embarrassed, "Because," he said slowly as if talking to an incredibly stupid person, "I'm his best mate."

Harry very nearly laughed, "No, I haven't seen your best mate," he replied looking him in the eye, now almost daring the boy to realize who he was. The ginger huffed and left the compartment. 'My best mate?' Harry thought incredulously. That kid was in for a rude awakening at Hogwarts.

However, a new opportunity had presented itself. If he could evade the notice of someone looking specifically for him, he could use the train ride to get to know what his peers were really like. Mind made up Harry pulled out a set of school robes to change into later and put them in his school bag. He then exited his compartment and headed for the dining compartments which would hopefully hold a lot of people who could be more easily approached than those in the private compartments.

On his way there he spotted something moving out of the corner of his eye. Reflexively he reached out and caught it. He nearly dropped the slimy object when he realized it was a toad which meant that it must be someone's pet. Congratulating himself over creating such a perfect introduction, Harry went off to seek its owner.

Harry soon saw a slightly chubby, blond-haired boy who looked to be his age. The boy was down on his hands and knees scanning the ground of the hallway frantically.

"Is this little guy yours?" Harry asked him, holding the toad aloft.

"Trevor!" the boy exclaimed and thanked Harry profusely.

"Hi I'm James Evans," Harry said. He didn't think anyone would begrudge him too much for the omission (unless they revealed some unsavory facts about their character like that redhead.)

"I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy said shyly.

Harry recognized the surname from a few of his books. They were one of the other Most Ancient and Noble Houses. They were politically Light aligned and had been allied with the Potters for generations. Frank Longbottom, who would have been the lord, was permanently incapacitated following a Death Eater attacker which occurred only shortly after Harry's own parent were killed.

"Do you mind if I join you? I don't really know anyone yet," Harry said.

Neville's face lit, "Of course! I my stuff is in one of the cabins a few cars down."

Harry followed Neville to the dining car where he had left his trunk. Neville abruptly halted in the doorway causing Harry to nearly run into him, "Um it looks like someone took my spot," Neville said looking embarrassed and at a loss of what to do.

Harry decided to take the initiative, "Well maybe we can make some more friends," he said, hoping to come across as a bit anxious but eager.

"Yeah that sounds- that sounds great!"Neville smiled at him.

Harry scoped out the room, having decided to approach one of the smaller groups. He settled on a table that contained two girls who looked like they would be first years too. One had golden blonde hair sleeked back into a ponytail and the other had brown hair that was cut into a wavy bob. The girls, like Neville were dressed in fine robes but did not seem to carry themselves with the same haughty airs some of the families he observed in Diagon Alley did.

Harry walked over to their table, "Would it be alright if we sat with you?"

"Yeah of course!" she brown-haired girl said, "I'm Tracey Davis and this is Daphne Greengrass," she looked at Neville, "You're the Longbottom boy, right?"

Neville nodded quickly, "Uh yep that's me… Neville," he added hastily, "and uh, this is James."

"Hi," Harry waved. Harry reflected on what he knew of the Greengrass and Davis families. From what he read, both were politically neutral. Daphne's father, the current Lord Greengrass, was notorious for abstaining from voting to the point that it had become a sort of in-joke in the political world. Harry wondered why he even bothered to attend Wizengamot meetings.

In his observation of the girls he had noticed that while Tracey seemed openly friendly and earnest, Daphne seemed a bit more reserved and calculating. She had eyed is run down muggle attire but seemed to decide to accept him for now.

"Do you have any class in particular that you're looking forward to?" Daphne said, making small talk, "I'm excited for potions class, although I haven't heard the best things about the professor."

Harry revealed that he was looking forward to DADA and History and was disappointed to learn that due to those professors he would likely hate those classes. Tracey was looking forward to Charms and Neville was waxed poetic about Herbology. Harry ended up spending a half an hour talking about muggle plants which Neville was very interested in. Neville got more animated and confident as they talked and appeared to be coming out of his shell. The table continued exchanging small talk, something Harry was very good at (which was the primary reason he was allowed at Vernon's business dinners.) Eventually, Daphne seemed to warm up to Harry.

Harry decided to get up to go to the restroom so that he could make the rounds of the room when he came back. On his way back to the compartment he spoke with a Ravenclaw prefect name Penelope Clearwater. She had flagged Harry down to talk about the band Joy Division which who's t-shirt he was wearing. Harry didn't know much about the band, having bought the shirt second-hand, but Penelope had done most of the talking anyways.

Once back inside the dining car Harry met Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. Susan Bones was the niece of Amelia Bones, the Head of the DMLE. Hannah's father, he discovered was a wealthy pureblooded businessman. He talked to them about school in general and found out that they both wanted to be in Hufflepuff.

He also met a set of first year twins named Parvati and Padma Patil who were Indian. They were sitting with a Lavender Brown. Padma was looking a little annoyed with her sister and Lavender and appeared glad that Harry had come to talk to her. He learned from her that she was from an old, predominate family from India and her father had come to England to run the English branch of the family company.

He briefly talked to Marrieta Edgecombe and Cho Chang who were Ravenclaws starting their second year. They were openly rude to Harry so he quickly left. He also met Cedric Diggory and Roger Davies (Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively). They were going into their third year and, while polite enough, appeared like they didn't want to talk to some firstie so he parted company with them as well.

Later, he helped Dean Thomas try to explain football to Seamus Finnegan who insisted it sounded like a rubbish sport. Harry promised Dean, who had brought a football, that he would play a pickup game with him sometime.

When Harry returned to the table Daphne commented, "I see you've made the rounds of the room," she was eyeing him assessingly.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know what you mean," Harry claimed with faux innocence.

Just then the train compartment opened admitting the blond-haired boy Harry had seen at the robe shop. He was flanked by two large boys with vacant expressions on their faces. The blond boy sneered at everyone in the compartment. When he spotted the table Daphne, Tracey, Neville, and Harry were seated at smirked cruelly and strutted over to them.

"Not even to Hogwarts and you're already sitting with the mudbloods and filth. What would your families think?" Malfoy sneered.

Harry realized he was the mudblood in this situation and couldn't hold back a grin. He ducked his head hoping to pass it off as looking embarrassed.

"Well, Draco," Tracey said, "I'm sure we both know I have no worries in that regard. I don't think Daphne's father would have much of an opinion on the matter either. Thank you for sharing Draco, but we'll ask for your opinion if we want it in the future."

Draco looked embarrassed, probably having remembered Tracey was a half-blood and Daphne's father was notoriously un-opinionated, "Have it your way then," he said trying to save face and left the compartment in a huff.

When Harry looked back up at the girls was Tracey looking apologetically at Harry and Neville but Daphne was looking him over suspiciously. She had apparently seen Harry's grin. When her eyes returned to his own they widened in recognition then flicked up to his baseball cap. She tapped on Tracey's shoulder who had begun apologizing about Malfoy. Tracey stopped talking and allowed Daphne to whisper in her ear. Her eyes widened in shock and she looked back at Harry. She looked him over before her eyes fixed on his cap.

Harry sat there trying not to look too guilty but wholly unapologetic. After the girls stared at him for a bit longer they burst out laughing Harry joined them. Neville looked a little upset at being left out. Tracey must have noticed this too because she motioned Neville in and whispered what they had discovered into his ear. Neville looked at Harry in shock for a few seconds his eyes making the same path the girls' had then he too broke down laughing.

"Oh Merlin," Daphne giggled, "When Malfoy finds out he's going to go absolutely mad!"

Harry told them about his other encounter with Draco at the shops which caused another round of laughter. They shared other Draco Malfoy stories regaling him with tales about how he would strut around name-dropping his father every other sentence. When Harry told them that he thought their family resembled albino peacocks the girls laughed so hard tears streamed down their faces. Apparently the Malfoys kept albino peacocks on their property.

Daphne asked what other information he had managed to glean while incognito and Harry told them, in whispers, about the ginger boy who had burst into his compartment asking if he'd seen himself and when questioned why told him that he was Harry's best mate.

Neville started laughing hysterically. This time the other three looked at him to explain, "That would have been Ron Weasley," he told them quietly, "He's been telling everyone he was going to be Harry Potter's best mate for ages and he finally meets him he goes and-" he broke down laughing unable to continue.

"I believe his exact words and inflection when I asked him why he was looking for me were, 'Because'" Harry mimicked Ron's slow, patronizing tone, "'Harry Potter's my best mate,'" This caused another fit of laughter and this time the whole table joined in. They began to tell him other stories about his fans including one about Ron's little sister Ginny who was apparently going to be his wife. Harry paled when he heard this and marveled at how crazy some people got over famous people.

* * *

The table lost track of time chatting until a Hufflepuff prefect passing by the car told them that they were only 30 minutes away from Hogsmeade. This prompted a somewhat mad dash to the toilets to change into the school robes. Harry and Neville separated from the girls to stand in the line. They continued to chat until they were interrupted by a commotion further up in the line.

"—saw you cast something, blood traitor. You tripped me!" one voice said.

"We can't help it if you snakes our clumsy," another replied. Harry couldn't see who was talking due to his vision being blocked by some older students who stood in front of them.

"Why I oughta—"

"OI!" a commanding voice interrupted, "Quit it!" when he turned around Harry saw that it was a Ravenclaw student wearing the Head girl badge. "Higgs, you're already dressed, get out of here. Jordan, shut it. I don't want to have to explain to Snape and McGonagall why their houses are down points before the feast starts."

The voices mumbled but things clamed back down.

"What do you think that was about? Harry asked Neville.

"House rivalry," Neville answered immediately in a tone that implied it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," Harry replied, thinking it over and putting together some of the things he had read and McGonagall's apparent dislike for Slytherin, "So that's between Slytherin and Gryffindor, right?" he asked .

Neville gave Harry a look that seemed to question if Harry kidding "Yeah. Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other. Gran says you can't really even be friends with someone if you're in one and they're in the other."

" _Really?_ " Harry asked. That could be terribly inconvenient for building up connections.

Neville smiled, "Yes really, Har—James. Merlin, you really didn't know that?"

Harry was starting to feel a little nervous. He had done almost nothing but read about the wizarding world all of August but he didn't know this apparently simple fact. He was not as prepared as he had thought and Harry hated it, "No, I didn't," he admitted to Neville as making Neville think he had been playing a joke on him wouldn't do him any favors.

Neville frowned, "Well I suppose that means we might not be able to stay friends with Tracey and Daphne," Neville said sounding upset by the thought, "Their families are almost always in Slytherin." Neville then scoffed, "Here I am, talking like I've already made Gryffindor. I'll probably be in Hufflepuff anyways," he shook his head, "Gran's going to kill me," he said weakly to himself. He looked back up at Harry suddenly as if he had just remembered Harry was there and let out a laugh, trying to make a joke out of his revealed inner turmoil.

Their line had reached the toilet and when it opened up Neville quickly ducked inside. Harry felt bad for not having been able to reassure Neville right away but what Neville had set brought about revelations for Harry. Everyone, even Neville who had been talking to him for the better part of a day, assumed Harry would be going to Gryffindor like his parents. Harry had noticed that families seemed to tend to stay go to the same houses, but it's not like Harry was actually raised by his parents. If Gryffindor and Slytherin were such rivals, it was likely that going to Slytherin would not be taken all that well. Harry couldn't see himself in Gryffindor but (assuming he had any control over where he would be sent as all books seemed deliberately vague on how students were assigned houses) should he try to get into maybe Ravenclaw so he wouldn't be ostracized from either Gryffindor or Slytherin?

Neville exited the toilet dressed in his robes. Harry flashed him a smile and went in to change. Harry had been looking forward to being in Slytherin. He wanted to continue to be friendly with Daphne and Tracey but he definitely wanted to remain able to be friendly with Neville whose family his own was allied with and, if Harry was being honest with himself, who Harry just genuinely liked talking to. But Neville didn't think he was headed to Gryffindor anyway. Maybe if Harry could just convince him Hufflepuff wasn't such a bad thing…

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland** **1 September 1991**

Shortly after Harry had changed the train arrived at the station in Hogsmeade. The first years followed the giant man, who Neville identified as Hagrid, down a path to the lake. Harry, Neville, Tracey, and Daphne clambered into one of the boats that would take them to the castle. As the boats rounded a bend, the castle came in to view. The sight literally took Harry's breath away. Hogwarts was absolutely beautiful. It was huge and imposing, the windows were all lit up making it a dazzling sight and which was reflected by the lake.

Soon though, they were under the castle and out of their boats. Hagrid raised his fist to the door and knocked thrice. The door swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall wearing a very stern, no nonsense expression. Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer than they usually would've done, peering around nervously.

McGonagall told them they were about to be sorted and what exactly that meant she continued and explained the point system and the house cup. She left them to go and check if the hall was ready.

After McGonagall's speech, Neville was nearly hyperventilating. Harry decided now was his last chance to talk to him.

"You know," Harry said, "I think Hufflepuff is underrated." Neville looked at him in surprise, "being hard-working and loyal sound pretty good to me," Harry shrugged, "I think people should go wherever they're best suited. Whatever house either of us are in, I'll still be your friend," Harry was a bit surprised to realize how sincere his use of the word friend was. He had never had or really wanted friends before.

"Thank you," Neville said, giving Harry a slightly watery smile.

Harry exhaled allowing his breath to catch a little. "People expect me to go to Gryffindor but…" Harry looked down and away, "To be honest, I think Slytherin would really suit me better," he revealed, peaking back up at Neville as if he was nervous about how Neville would react. Harry was slightly unnerved to find that doing so required very little acting.

Neville was looking at him in shock. He opened his mouth to say something when ghosts drifted through the walls casing many of the first years to scream.

Before they were able to regather their wits McGonagall returned declaring, "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Harry and the other first years followed McGonagall to the door of the main hall. The doors flew open the students sitting along four tables conversations halted as the craned to see the new students. Harry took a deep breath and stepped inside.

As Harry and the other first years entered the hall the students began to whisper he heard people talking about him and asking each other, "Have you seen him yet?" and, "Which one is he?" Up at the front of the aisle there was a stool holding a decrepit looking hat. Once the first years had all reached the front of the hall the hat opened at the brim and began to sing:

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black  
And your top hats sleek and tall  
But I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So put me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindor apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're safe in my hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The hall broke out into applause and the hat bowed to each table before becoming still again. Professor McGonagall pulled out a scroll and began reading out names, the students would go up and sit on the stool, put on the hat after a moment or a few minutes the hat would shout out one of the houses. Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff as they had predicted. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst became the first two Ravenclaws. Harry tried to remember everyone but he soon lost track. He did pay attention to the people he had met on the train. Tracey and Daphne went to Slytherin along with Malfoy's bodyguards. Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan went to Gryffindor.

Neville was called up after a bushy haired girl who went to Gryffindor after the longest sorting yet. Harry gave Neville a reassuring pat on the back. However Neville was no longer quaking in his boots. Harry saw a determined expression form on his face just before the hat slid over and covered it.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted. When he removed the hat he gave Harry a smile showing that Hufflepuff was the result he had hoped for. Harry cheered extra loudly for him and gave him an approving nod as he sat next to Hannah and Susan.

A few names later Draco Malfoy did, in fact, go to Slytherin. Then after six more students Harry's name was finally called, "Potter, Harry."

The hall broke out into excited whispers some students even stood up craning their necks to get a look at him. When Harry stepped up to the stool a few of the students gasped in surprise, 'Really' Harry thought, 'All I've done was get a haircut lose the glasses.' The daft pointed hat they all had to wear for feasts covered up his scar. The hall broke out into whispers. Harry tried to ignore all of this, keeping his gazed focused straight ahead. When he turned around to sit on the stool he saw Ron Weasley was glaring daggers at him looking absolutely furious not embarrassed like Harry had expected. (Harry then decided to stop trying to predict the reactions of crazy people.) The hat fell past his eyes and was completely cut off from the sounds of the hall.

'Interesting, very interesting,' a voice whispered in his ear.

'Or rather in my mind' Harry corrected himself.

'And not a bad mind at that Mr. Potter!' said the hat, 'Now where to put you… plenty of courage I see, a very sharp mind, hard-working too… Oh, but so much ambition and what a ruthless sense of cunning!' the hat laughed, 'No Mr. Potter there's no question on where to put you.'

Harry felt a brief flash of worry over not being able to be as openly friendly with the Gryffindors.

'I can see into your mind, Mr. Potter. That you should even worry about such things only guarantees that you belong in…'

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted to the hall.

Dead silence followed the hat's shout.

Neville was the first to break the silence with his applause and seemed to be single-handedly trying to make up for the otherwise silent room. Daphne and Tracey followed, then some students at the Slytherin table, the faculty joined in, and finally a few people at the other tables. Most students, however, were either looking at him with horrified awe or whispering fiercely with their table mates. Ron Weasley stared at him in horror as though he had just witness Harry murder a puppy.

Harry walked calmly over to the Slytherin table. Well, at least it looked like he did. Inside though his heart had started to race. It looked like the fallout of being placed in Slytherin would be much worse than he had anticipated. Some students at the Slytherin table were glaring at him too. Harry scanned the table and caught Daphne's gaze. Her eyes held an amused glint and Tracey who sat next to her was trying to suppress her giggles. Harry sat down in between them.

The rest of the Sorting Ceremony passed in a blur. Harry, who was seriously reconsidering his life choices, barely managed pay attention to where the other kids he met on the train went (Padma to Ravenclaw and Parvati, Seamus and Weasley to Gryffindor.)

The feast started after Dumbledore said a few nonsense words. While the rest of the hall broke out into chatter the first year section of the Slytherin table was unusually quiet, attempting to gather themselves from the shock of Harry's sorting. Malfoy had paled dramatically once he realized the mudblood he had sneered at had been Harry Potter who is father had instructed to gain the favor of. He had told him Harry was raised by muggles and would be ignorant of the wizarding world. Malfoy prayed Harry would forget about it but he was in no such luck.

"Dear me, Draco," Harry said feigning surprise at seeing him, "The sorting feast not even over and your already sitting with the mudbloods and filth. Pray tell, what would your father say?" Harry said, breaking the table's unnatural silence.

Draco flushed bright red, spluttering. Daphne and Tracey broke down into giggles. The rest of the first years had seen the exchange and even though they hadn't witnessed the scene on the train had a pretty good idea that what Harry said was probably quoting words from Malfoy nearly verbatim. Most were pleased by Malfoy's humiliation. Slytherin was a dog eat dog world for politics had Malfoy was a major player.

Harry began to exchange barbs and pointed remarks with his tablemates, knowing that he had to establish himself fast so that the others would realize he belonged there. Many were surprised he could keep up. Harry was having the time of his life. This was why he had wanted to be in Slytherin: Politics.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore frowned deeply at the head table. This was  _definitely_  not what was supposed to happen. Harry in Slytherin? And worse the boy didn't even look upset about it! Did Tom have more of a hold over him than he thought? He felt The Plan that had been slipping away since July fall to tatters. Everything was wrong.

Harry was not at all like he had planned. The boy looked confident and well-kept. Not at all meek, humble, and broken he had planned for. And if what Mrs. Figg said was true he wouldn't see Albus as his savior. No, the boy had saved himself. This too made it more unlikely that he would ever rely on any adult. The meeting with the Weasleys had also not gone as planned. They were late to the station and Mrs. Weasley hadn't even seen him. She might not have even recognized him if she had. He had seen the from the Weasley boy's glares that his intended role had obviously fallen through as well.

Dumbledore contemplated just what had gone wrong with The Plan. He couldn't fathom a single reason the Dursley household could have flipped over night that didn't involve the boy frightening them with some sort of display of magic. And now the boy was in Slytherin. Had Tom manage to possess or somehow communicate with Harry? He resolved to ask Harry to come up to his office immediately following tomorrow's breakfast. If the boy was free from Tom's influence he would have probably realized by then that he would get eaten alive in Slytherin, knowing so little of the wizarding world. If Dumbledore had bothered to look at the Slytherin table he would have seen this was most definitely not the case.

* * *

Down the table from Albus, Severus Snape was seething. The Potter brat looked alarmingly like Lily but it was obvious he was just as arrogant as his father. Making his resemblance to Lily a greater offense. The brat had pretended the whole world was beneath his notice! And now he was in his house to top it off! The brat was probably playing a prank on the school and would announce it all was a hoax in the morning. Knowing the headmaster, he would probably turn a blind eye or even facilitate him.

He had hoped to minimize contact with Potter's spawn. Well, outside of the detentions of course. Manual labor would serve the pompous prince right. No, he would make sure to sort that brat out tonight and have him running screaming from his house before bedtime!

* * *

Once the feast was over Dumbledore addressed them again going over some of the school rules and warning them to stay away from the third floor corridor if they wished to avoid a painful death. Harry couldn't decide if Dumbledore truly didn't understand the nature of children, or if this was some sort of challenge. A painful rendition of the school song followed after which they were dismissed.

Harry followed the crowd of students down to the dormitories in the dungeons. Already there and waiting for them was Professor Snape. Harry had paid little attention to the staff table during the feast but he knew that Snape taught Potions and he had read that he had been cleared of charges of being a Death Eater by Albus Dumbledore who had claimed Snape was his spy (how being a private citizen's spy was enough to clear someone of charges Harry couldn't fathom.)

"Welcome to Slytherin," Snape drawled addressing the first years, "As you will soon discover, Slytherin is hated by all the other houses and even some of the professors will discriminate against you and will likely take the word of any other student above yours. Because of this it is essential that you present a united front outside of this common room. Leave your petty quarrels behind closed doors. If you allow the rest of the school to see any divisions between you, they will not hesitate before ripping you limb from limb. Remember, first and foremost, you are a Slytherin."

Harry was becoming alarmed. A rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was inconvenient but not unreasonable. The rest of the school, professors included, treating him like some kind of juvenile delinquent was a horrifying and all too familiar. Just what had he gotten himself into?

"As a Slytherin you are also expected to behave at all times with dignity," Snape continued, "I will not tolerate any troublemakers or anyone who receives failing grades. This means that if you notice another student struggling you will help them. I will be meeting with each of you in a week to discuss your progress, dismissed," he said harshly.

The first years began walking towards their rooms, "Potter," Snape shouted glaring at Harry, "With me," he said turning on his heel and walking into a study room off to the side of the common room. Harry followed him. The way Snape had practically spat his name let him know he was in for a chewing out.

Snape turned towards Harry once they were in the room, "I don't care how you got here, Potter," he spat, "Just looking at you I can tell you are as arrogant as your father. Now if I you get in a single lick of trouble or I find out you've been spying on any of your housemates you'll be out of this school before you can  _whine_  a single sentence," Snape sneered at him.

Harry felt about ready to lose it. So not only were other houses and professors going to hate him but his own head of house too? Just because of some bad blood between Snape and his father? No, he wasn't going to take this.

"I'm no spy, sir," He said, "Well, you see I don't think I have the temperament for it." He said in a self-deprecating tone, "Why, if  _I_  was a spy, I think I would have to have much better control over my temper," Harry stared at Snape seeing his barb hit its mark. Snape's response was predictable.

"Detention, Potter!" Snape spluttered his face having turned red, "Tomorrow night at seven."

"Yes, sir," Harry said in a respectful tone. He took this as a dismissal and went up to his dormitory.

Severus Snape returned to his quarters seething. What was most frustrating was that the boy was right. If he had ever gotten this worked up during the war he would have found himself six feet under. He had managed to trick the Dark Lord and here he was throwing a tantrum over an eleven year old brat!

He knew now, how the boy got into Slytherin. The boy was much more of a Slytherin than half of the kids who got sorted there these days. 'At least James Potter would be turning over in his grave,' he thought bitterly. However, he quickly halted the thought. He needed to bury his grudge against his long dead nemesis. Even if it was only to spite the same man's son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Harry didn't know the fallout of his sorting would be so dramatic and even if he did I'm not a fan of the idea that the hat can be tricked into putting someone into a different house McGonagall is a fair teacher and Harry tried to stick with books written without bias and didn't even read many about Hogwarts. Remember he also didn't have Ron or Hagrid whispering horror stories in his ear.
> 
> 2\. Snape will come around eventually after he finally lets go of his hatred for James.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of classes

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 2, 1991**

Due to years of habit, Harry's internal clock woke him around 6 that morning. After talking with Snape the night before, Harry had gone to the first year boys' room which was down a hallway off of the common room. When he arrived the beds had all been claimed apart from the one closest to the door leading to the hallway. As Harry got up to get ready for the day, he noticed the bed closest to him was also vacant while the other four still had their curtains drawn.

Harry walked to the toilets that adjoined their room (their showers were in a separate room that was shared among years 1-3) and saw Zabini at the sink brushing his teeth. After taking a leak Harry went to wash his hands at the other sink.

Zabini kept throwing Harry contemplative looks and after spitting out his toothpaste he opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it shaking his head. Zabini started to walk off but then paused and turned around in the doorway

"They're taking bets, you know," Zabini said, "'how long till Potter runs screaming from Slytherin'… 'how long till Potter winds up in the hospital wing' stuff like that."

Harry felt chilled, "Sorry, who is?"

Zabini gave him an unimpressed look, "People," he said shortly, "I just thought I should let you know to watch your back," he said then walked out of the room.

Harry stood for a moment stunned. If Zabini were to be believed (not a sure thing, but still a reasonable exercise of caution), people were placing bets on how long he could escape serious bodily injury.  _Fellow Slytherins_  were placing these bets (because, really, who else could Zabini have talked to). Harry didn't know why he was surprised as this seemed pretty par the course of things since he arrived at Hogwarts. Snape's speech last night had alerted him to the fact that being in Slytherin apparently made him a pariah to the other houses and professors. Snape himself seemed to hate him with an intensity that rivaled his aunt and—oh yeah—now some of his own housemates were making sport of the unlikelihood of his continued health. Great. Just great.

Somehow, if he wasn't going to have a Hogwarts experience similar to that of his first few years of primary school, he was going to have to win people over fast in addition to learning how to defend himself against magical attacks. Being attacked with magic scared him exponentially more than Dudley's gang of Harry Hunters ever did.

* * *

At 7:30 the first years gathered in the common room so they could be guided down to breakfast by Marcus Flint who was a fifth year prefect and the captain of the quidditch team. Harry quickly joined up with Tracey and Daphne.

When they arrived in the Great Hall it was only about a third full. As people trickled in they ate their breakfast in near silence as many students were still half-asleep. Seeking distraction, Harry talked to Daphne and Tracey about the classes and what they had heard about the professors. Once the hall was nearly full, the heads of houses came around to hand out the class schedules. When Snape came to give Harry his schedule he also gave him a curled parchment and sealed parchment with a scoff. Harry opened it:

Harry,  
Please come and see me immediately after breakfast.  
Albus Dumbledore.  
p.s. I enjoy Ice Mice

"What is it?" Tracey asked.

Harry handed it to her, "The headmaster wants to see me."

"Ooooh you must be in trouble," she teased, "I bet he wants to make you move to Gryffindor to get you away before us evil snakes have a chance to corrupt the precious Boy-Who-Lived," she said, "But I think he's mistaken," she leaned to whisper conspiratorially, "If anything, it's you who would corrupt us!"

"Who, me?" Harry feigned shock. The two laughed.

Daphne wasn't so amused, "You need to watch out for Dumbledore," she warned seriously, "That man meddles in anything he can get his hands on."

Harry, who was already wary of the man, readily agreed to exercise caution, "I have something I want to talk to him about myself."

* * *

Breakfast at the Hufflepuff table was a much livelier affair. Most of the students had gotten over yesterday's shock about Harry's sorting and had begun to gossip.

"He must be a Dark Lord," Ernie MacMillian informed Wayne Hopkins and Justin Finch-Fletchley, "I bet he defeated You-Know-Who because he was an even more evil and powerful."

Neville interrupted the conversation unable to listen to such rubbish, "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Harry was a 15 month-old baby, he wasn't old enough to  _be_  evil. I met him on the train and became his friend, he is really nice and funny."

"That's just what he wants you to think! He was just using you, it's all part of his evil plan," MacMillian gestured wildly.

"Harry isn't in Slytherin because he's evil. He's there because he is a politician through and through," Neville continued, "He was the one who convinced me Hufflepuff wasn't such a bad house," A few students looked surprised at that. They had become used to Hufflepuff being mocked and derided.

"Hannah, Susan you talked to Harry on the train. Did he strike you as some sort of aspiring Dark Lord?" Neville asked them.

Hannah and Susan shyly agreed that they had been under the impression that Harry was a nice and friendly muggleborn that was really easy to talk to.

MacMillian wouldn't listen, but some of the other first years decided to adopt a "wait and see policy" about Harry.

* * *

Things did not go as well for Harry's reputation at the Gryffindor table. Ron Weasley told Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas how rude Harry had been to him on the train. Dean didn't really buy Ron's story but Seamus bought it up.

"I don't think he's all that bad," Dean said, "He was polite to Seamus and me,"

"You had better watch out," Ron warned, "He probably hates muggleborns like the rest of those slimy snakes."

"I kinda doubt that," Dean said, "He was wearing muggle clothing and he promised to play football with me if I could get a game started."

Ron, however, was adamant that Harry was an evil Dark Lord. Dean reluctantly agreed to watch out for him but he would play football with Harry if he was still up for it.

* * *

The Slytherins had a free period before Double History of Magic but Harry still left breakfast a bit early after asking directions from one of the prefects. Unsurprisingly given the castle's layout, he still managed to get turned around and was finally helped by a few portraits who seemed amused by his confusion. Once he arrived at the stone gargoyle that marked the headmasters' office he stood awkwardly for a moment given as there was no place to knock, oh-

"Uh, Ice Mice?" he said and the gargoyle spun with a loud grinding noise. As it spun it revealed a staircase that spiraled upwards as the gargoyle continued to turn. At the top of the stairs, just when Harry lifted his fist to knock on the door, a voice called out inviting him inside. Harry cast a suspicious glance at the now vacant portrait near the door then entered the room.

"Harry, my boy," said Dumbledore called out from his desk, "Please, take a seat," he smiled pleasantly.

Harry sat down in one of the wooden chairs in front of the headmaster's desk, "Good morning, Headmaster."

"Would you care for a lemon sherbet?" Dumbledore asked holding out a candy bowl nearly overflowing with them.

"I'm good, thanks," Harry said. A pause followed in which Dumbledore smiled benignly and Harry grew increasingly off-put.

"Well I guess it's lucky you asked me here, sir, because I would like to ask you about how Hogwarts came to be in possession of a key to my trust vault," Harry said, "Could you explain how this happened, sir?" If Dumbledore was trying to use silence to mind-game him into revealing secrets it wasn't going to work and he might as well use it to his advantage.

Harry didn't miss how Dumbledore's smile momentarily flickered downwards, "Harry, my boy, it was not Hogwarts that had your key but I who had it," Dumbledore said as if that explained everything.

"Okay… Can you explain why  _you_  had the key to my trust vault? I only just met you today."

"Ah that is not quite true, my boy. You see, your parents were close friends of mine so I saw you many times when you were a baby. You've grown up to look so much like them it is a shame they passed—such a shame," Dumbledore shook his head looking morose.

Harry normally would have enjoyed hearing about his parents but Dumbledore hadn't answered his question, "So my parents gave you a key to my trust vault…because you were a family friend?" with all the skepticism that idea deserved.

"Your parents were members of a group that fought Voldemort that I was in charge of. It was called the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said stroking his beard, "They knew the war was dangerous for those who stood up against Voldemort so they made arrangements in case they were killed and you survived them," he said.

Harry still thought Dumbledore hadn't answered the question, "Their 'arrangements' were to give the key to my vault to a man who wouldn't see me for ten years?"

Dumbledore peered closely at Harry and a strange feeling came over Harry, almost as if there was a slight pressure surrounding his head. Harry looked away from Dumbeldore's eyes and instead focused on his flamboyantly patterned robes. The strange feeling went away

"I was to hold on to it until your guardians came to collect it. I tried to contact your relatives but they did not seem to want to meet with me. I assumed they did not want or need additional support."

That was a load of bullshit if Harry had ever heard one. Giving a friend a key to their sons' sole available livelihood seemed highly unlikely. His story about the Dursleys was even more so. Sure the Dursleys would not have wanted to talk to Dumbledore but if they were aware Harry had any money, let alone a small fortune, Vernon would've set aside his prejudice for a day to go raid Harry's vault. And given the frequency they told him he was a burden and taking the food from Dudley's mouth they were unaware they could get any money to support Harry. Maybe if Dumbledore didn't mention the money and expressed a desire to chat his story could work but not mentioning the key seemed like a rather large oversight for the person his parents entrusted with it. The problem was Harry couldn't exactly contradict Dumbledore. What Dumbledore said seemed stupid and unlikely but he had no way to show it was impossible.

"Ok. That  _could_  make sense," Harry reluctantly allowed.

"Now Harry that wasn't quite what I had called you up here to discuss," Dumbledore said with mild reproach in his tone that Harry felt was completely undeserved.

Again the room lapsed into silence and Harry came to the frustrating realization that he would be forced to play along with Dumbledore's apparent script of the conversation, "So why did you want to see me, sir?" Harry asked.

"Harry, Harry, I must confess I am a bit worried about whether you will be able to remain safe in Slytherin."

Harry's metaphorical hackles raised. Sure, Zabini's warning may have given him some doubts himself but he didn't appreciate Dumbledore butting his head in nor did he seem him doing it for anyone else, "Really, sir? Why do you say that?"

"Well since you have just learned about the wizarding world, as Minerva informed me, you may not know this but when Voldemort was at his most powerful he had many followers who he called Death Eaters. Many of these Death Eaters had children and almost all of their children who are at Hogwarts are in Slytherin. I'm afraid that Slytherin could turn out to be quite dangerous for you," Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Oh, and what would you propose?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. There were a number of things that bothered him about what Dumbledore had said: namely that Dumbledore assumed he wouldn't have thought to bother to learn some basic facts about the war that cost him his parents. Also, while there was merit to the thought that some Slytherins might have it out for him, Harry did not appreciate Dumbledore's seemingly blanket assumption that if someone's parents were Death Eaters their children would be violent criminals as well.

"I think we should see if the Sorting Hat could place you somewhere more suitable."

'Somewhere more suitable?' Harry thought. He realized that Dumbledore was the sort of professor that Snape had warned them about. One who would assume the worst of them for being in Slytherin, "No. I'm going to have to pass on that offer," Harry said firmly.

"Harry, be serious, this isn't a joking matter this is about your safety!"

"I am serious," he said, "If I was in any other house the Slytherin students could attack me anywhere. While I am in Slytherin we are expected to present a united front outside our house so anyone wishing to attack me can only do so in our common room which I plan to avoid. I also highly doubt any other house would take too kindly to me joining them now nor would running away grant me any favors from the Slytherins."

"My boy, people will quickly forget and let bygones be bygones if we resort you now. Perhaps you could even do your parents proud and go into Gryffindor!" he chuckled, "I know James would've been heartbroken to see you in green and silver."

Harry had thought himself over caring about getting approval from adults but that did not stop him from momentarily feeling self-conscious and anxious when Dumbledore implied that his parents wouldn't be proud of him. However, those feelings was swiftly replaced with a cold white rage that Dumbledore would dare to attempt to invoke the specter of his dead parents to shame him into compliance.

"As you so kindly pointed out a moment ago, I didn't even know about magic until this past July. I certainly didn't know which house my parents attended at here or how they would have felt about the other houses." Harry said coldly, "Even if you put that hat on me again—which I refuse to allow—it wouldn't do any good. The hat said the only place for me was Slytherin," Harry said and was pleased by the brief flash of horrified shock on Dumbledore's face at that.

"And yeah, maybe my parents would be disappointed in how I turned out," Harry shrugged glad his voice stayed steady, "But if they were truly the kind of people who would be disappointed in a child they didn't even raise failing some ruddy personality test—well, then I'm not going to waste my life trying to meet their unreasonable standards!"

Dumbledore peered at him, steepled his fingers together and finally said, "I see that I will be unable to persuade you, Harry. Just know that my door is always open and I would be happy to help you if you ever feel that you are in over your head."

"To be honest, I highly doubt I will be taking you up on that offer, sir," Harry practically spat, "If you hoped to be some sort of grandfatherly figure to me, you are many years too late. I am a student at your school, and as far as I see it, that is the extent of our relationship. I am not your grandson, not your boy, not your friend, and currently, not much of a fan. As far as I see it, this conversation is already inappropriate. Do not expect me to join you in another one."

Harry glanced at his analogue watch, "I need to leave now if I want to get to class on time," Harry stood to leave. He turned to look at Dumbledore, "Unless you plan to keep me from my education, professor."

"Very well… you may leave, Harry," Dumbledore said.

* * *

If Albus' Plan had fallen to tatters yesterday, the pieces had disintegrated in his meeting with Harry. Slytherin was the only option for him? Was the boy past the point of redemption? Was he under Tom's influence? Or worse, had Albus unwittingly helped fashion another Tom Riddle?

Albus thought back over the entire conversation. Harry had looked away from his Legilimency probe before Albus could find out anything besides Harry disbelief and annoyance at Albus. Had the boy noticed his probe? How did he even know about Legilimency? Harry did not even seem to care about learning about his parents or disappointing them!

The speech Harry had given him had been frightening. Dumbledore had to admit Harry made a clever move. By establishing that the only relationship he saw between them was as a professor to student any communication not involving school would be seen as inappropriate. This meant Albus would now have to get to Harry through a third-party. Albus may have to completely abandon his plan with the Stone or at least institute a back up to ensure Tom and Harry's confrontation. But in order to get Harry back on the path of The Plan, if it could be done, Albus would really need to get to work.

* * *

When Harry met up with his class by the History of Magic classroom Tracey flagged him down, "So what did the headmaster want to see you for?" she asked

"What you had thought, he wanted me to move houses. Didn't seem to think Slytherin was suitable."

"What a jerk. He's the headmaster here you'd think he would have to at least pretend to treat the houses fairly."

"You would think," Harry said, "He also seemed to think Slytherin might not be the safest" he said quietly.

"There he may not be totally off base," Daphne said.

"Anyone I should be worried about in particular?"

Daphne thought for a moment and looked at Tracey who just shrugged, "Not yet. Hopefully, most will go after you with words first. You aren't seen as well if you have to result to physical violence… Although you may be an exception," she admitted. They then had to quiet down as Professor Binns floated in through the chalkboard.

History of Magic proved to be excruciatingly boring, especially in such a long session. Harry thought this was a shame since he had really enjoyed the history books he had read over the summer. Professor Binns' voice acted like a sedative and it was nearly impossible to stay alert. The most interesting, and most irritating, part of the class were the dirty and sometimes fearful looks the Ravenclaw students would send his way. If he wanted any peace at Hogwarts and success after, he was going to figure out how to do something about that.

As they walked down to the Great Hall for lunch Harry decided to ask Daphne about the funny feeling he had when Dumbledore had looked at him, "Hey, Daphne when you said to 'watch out' for Dumbledore… did you mean that literally?"

Daphne looked at him, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Okay this might sound stupid and be nothing but when I was looking Dumbledore in the eye, I got this strange feeling and I felt like my head got a bit muddled and it went away when I looked away…"

Daphne gasped, began looking angry, but then paused and gave him a bit of a confused look.

"Okay so it means something?" Harry asked.

"Harry, do you know anything about the mind arts?"

" _Mind_  arts?" Harry asked, alarmed, "What did he  _do_?"

"I'll tell you tonight," she promised, "This isn't the place for this conversation," she said looking around the Great Hall where they had just arrived.

Harry began to complain, "But-"

"Later," she insisted.

* * *

Lunch at the Slytherin table was filled with verbal posturing. The first years were talking (read bragging) about the holidays their families had taken. Malfoy seemed to have gotten over his humiliation from the night before and was eager to get back at Harry.

"Potter, did the muggles who raised you ever take you anywhere?" Malfoy asked. The first years turned to look at him with varying degrees of surprise.

" _Muggles_  raised you?" Parkinson said with disgust.

Harry took note of the expressions on people's faces, noting those who looked disgusted, "No we didn't really travel outside of Great Britain," he responded, "Although I must admit, Malfoy, I'm a bit shocked you know so much about me as that isn't public knowledge. I hadn't realized you were such a dedicated fanboy," Harry gave him an over the top simpering smile, "Are you trying to get my autograph?"

Malfoy turned pink, "I don't care about you at all you muggle-lover. My father told me. He's good friends with the minister and very well-informed," Malfoy bragged.

"Oh, so I should make the autograph out to him then?" Harry asked facetiously earning a few laughs from the table.

The conversation carried on after that and Harry was gratified to see that he wasn't treated all that differently by most of the first years. Soon they had to leave lunch to head to Double Charms which was with the Hufflepuffs.

Once at the classroom Neville waved Harry over to sit with him to Harry's pleasant surprise. The other Hufflepuffs seemed a bit wary of him but not as frightened as the Ravenclaws seemed to be—well apart from one student whose name Harry thought began with Mc or Mac something who looked alarmed when Harry sat next to Neville.

Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, a small man who was a quarter goblin. While Binns had seemed completely indifferent to the very existence of any of the students, Flitwick began class by taking roll, stumbling over Harry's name when he called it. Harry noticed that Flitwick seemed to be watching him extra closely throughout the class although the looks were more contemplative than angry or suspicious.

As Flitwick lectured the class on safety precautions and theory, Mac-whatever kept trying to get Neville's attention to mouth things to Neville including, but not limited to, "HE'S EVIL," and "HE. WILL. KILL. YOU." It was so ludicrous Harry was tempted to laugh.

When the theory part of the class was over and they began to try spell casting he and Neville were finally given a chance to talk.

"Sorry about Macmillan over there," Neville said nodding towards the boy, "He thinks you're some sort of Dark Lord who defeated You-Know-Who by being more evil or something equally dumb. I tried to tell him that was rubbish but he just wouldn't listen."

This surprised Harry. No one had ever stood up for him before. Whenever things got rough for kids who were nice to him in primary school they were quick to drop him or even help Dudley pick on him, "You don't need to do that for me, Neville," he said.

Neville looked at him seriously, "No Harry, I did have to. You're my first friend. I won't sit by while someone insults you."

"Thank you, Neville," Harry said.

* * *

Harry had to leave supper early to get to his detention with Snape. This was unfortunate because things had just been heating up between Malfoy and Nott. Harry got to the Potions room about ten minutes before seven. Deciding not to dawdle he knocked on the classroom door.

"Enter," Snape said. Although he hadn't shouted, Snape's voice carried through the door. Harry opened the door and walked into the classroom.

"You'll be scrubbing cauldrons tonight, Potter," Snape said motioning toward a counter that held about twenty cauldrons.

"Are there any gloves I could use, sir?" Harry asked. When Snape answered in a negative Harry nearly rolled his eyes at how petty the man was being.

Harry walked over to the counter and grabbed the first cauldron, he took it to the sink and began scrubbing. It wasn't that bad really, he'd washed worse when his aunt had experimented with recipes. Harry idly wondered how the Dursley's were managing without him cooking and cleaning for them. But, he supposed, with Dudley away at school as well there would be significantly less work to do.

Harry finished the first cauldron, set it aside and grabbed a second. Professor Snape glided over to the clean cauldron sucking in a deep breath. Harry guessed he was about to claim the cauldron "didn't shine quite right" or something ridiculous.

Snape, however, remained silent. He then stared at the cauldron Harry was working on for a while. Eventually, he turned around and returned to his desk. Harry wanted to shout in triumph but he kept scrubbing diligently.

An hour and a half later Harry had finished. His hands were red and pruned but Harry had begun to wonder if wizards even used rubber gloves anyways. Harry told Snape that he had finished. Snape came and inspected the cauldrons meticulously.

"Very well," Snape said grudgingly, "You may leave."

Harry was surprised that Snape had remained civil the entire detention, "I will see you tomorrow again at seven o'clock" Snape finished.

'Oh well,' Harry thought. He answered, "I will see you then sir," and left the classroom.

* * *

Snape stared at the closed door to his classroom in a state of confusion. The detention hadn't gone anything like he had expected. He had stayed deliberately silent expecting the boy to crack and start mouthing off so he could assign the spoiled brat more detentions. Instead the boy had remained completely silent after he had complained about not having gloves. Although, on further reflection Snape was unsure if it truly was a complaint At first he had thought the boy meant dragon-hide gloves which were nearly impossible to dry once you soaked them but after he had inspected the first cauldron he began to suspect the boy meant the rubber gloves muggles used. He had obviously scrubbed cauldrons or pots before and had obviously done it often. snape had felt rather smug when Potter had finished the first cauldron so early because he thought he would be able to tell him off for rushing and slacking but the cauldron had been completely clean.

Snape's final attempt to make the boy crack by assigning him another detention didn't even seem to faze him. Snape had been sure it would make the boy explode after having held back the rest of the detention. Snape decided to give Harry a less pleasant task in the next detention to see if he could goad the boy into losing his temper.

* * *

**Longbottom Residence: Heartstone Manor, Unplottable Location, England September 2, 1991**

The tea cup Augusta Longbottom was holding had been paused halfway to her mouth for the last ten minutes. She had just received her first correspondence from Neville. He had told her that he had been sorted into Hufflepuff. This was not entirely unexpected and was not what had made her tea pause in its path. No, it was the letter as a whole. If she hadn't taught Neville and been well acquainted with his handwriting she would have thought a completely different person had written it. Apparently, the boy had finally grown a spine.

Neville had written that he told the hat to place him in Hufflepuff because he had become Harry Potter's friend on the train and Harry had known he would be in Slytherin. He assured her this was because he was a politician and not an up-and-coming Dark Lord (not to say that had been Augusta's first assumption.) He went on to basically tell her that he didn't really care what she thought and was happy to be in Hufflepuff.

Her arm began to fall asleep so she put down her now cold tea. She had always been so disappointed in Neville. Now on the first day he left the house for school he made friends with a strong political ally, made his own life changing choices, and stood up for himself to her.

Had she been the one holding him back? Had her ridicule stunted and not encouraged his growth? She made her way to her desk to write Neville back, hoping she could still salvage her relationship with him.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 2, 1991**

When Harry got back to the common room from detention Daphne pulled him into one of the study rooms with where Tracey sat.

"Legilimency," said Daphne.

"Pardon?" said Harry.

"Dumbledore was using Legilimency on you," Tracey explained while Daphne paced.

"What does that mean?"

"It's a magic of the mind that allows the user to extract thoughts, feelings and memories from another," Daphne said.

"That son of a bitch!  _Please_  tell me that's extremely illegal," Harry pleaded.

"It's not," Daphne replied shortly, "It's frowned upon but would be impossible to regulate so the Ministry doesn't bother. It's probably too convenient for those in power anyway."

"Can I protect myself somehow?" Harry asked.

Harry saw that Tracey was looking at him in confusion. Daphne answered him, "You can protect yourself through the practice of Occlumency."

"How long would it take me to learn it?" Harry asked.

"Wait, you've never heard of Occlumency? Tracey asked. Daphne shot her a warning look.

"That you were able recognize something was wrong is a good sign. I sent a letter to my mother asking for her to send me my old instructional books."

"Thank you," Harry said, gratefully.

"Harry, who is your magical guardian?" Daphne asked.

Harry considered his response but went with the truth, "No idea, I've never met them."

Tracey gasped.

"I had started to suspect you might not be in contact with yours," Daphne continued cautiously, "Harry, did you always know about the magical world?"

Harry froze for a second. He didn't having his vulnerabilities exposed to anyone and that Daphne was able to figure out what many would see as a weakness unnerved him. But Daphne and Tracey had been nice to him, they were helping him when they didn't need to, "No. I didn't know until I got my Hogwarts letter," he admitted.

"What?!" Tracey said.

"Do you know how you ended up with your relatives?" Daphne probed.

"…um, they told me that someone left me on their doorstep," Harry said and he could feel the heat rise in his cheeks.

Tracey's eyes bulged on Daphne went white, "All of this has to be like seven types of illegal, isn't it Daphne?" Tracey asked.

"It sounds like it. A magical guardian is required to see to their dependent's magical education. When your parents passed away you should've either been placed in a home through the reading of their will or through the Child Protective Services. Neither option would likely result in placing you in a basket on a muggle doorstep."

"It wasn't a will," Harry said quietly and repeated louder when prompted, "Gringotts told me my parents wills were sealed shortly after they died."

Daphne was looking increasingly alarmed, "Harry, I think you need to contact the DMLE. I think it's possible that you were kidnapped," Daphne said.

"I don't want a media circus, " Harry said shaking his head, "Things turned out alright, didn't they?"

"Harry, finding out what exactly happened you is a lot more important than worrying about the media."

"I just don't- I just don't want people to know, alright?" Harry said.

Both the girls were looking at him with a sad expression that Harry instantly hated. He looked away.

"Harry in order to do pretty much anything in the wizarding world you're going to need your magical guardian. They aren't doing something they are legally required to do. They're breaking the law."

"Fine, fine," Harry said, "It's just-is there a way to go about this, I don't know, quietly?"

"Maybe if you contact Madame Bones directly. She isn't the type to tell the press anything and she will have the most power to sort things out." Daphne said.

"Look I'll send a letter to Madame Bones tomorrow. I'm just going to head to bed," Harry said abruptly, "Goodnight," Harry left to head towards his dorm room.

* * *

Daphne was worried about Harry. Her mother had told her that there were two kinds of people who ended up in Slytherin: those whose families raised them to value ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness and those who came to value those qualities out of necessity. The latter kind almost always had unhappy childhoods and Daphne suspected Harry fell into this category.

It sounded like someone (and if Daphne had to guess who her money would be on Albus Dumbledore) had really screwed up his life. If the muggle relatives hadn't been willing to tell Harry magic existed, she doubted they were all that kind to the baby wizard who had been left on their doorstep.

Harry had so far done surprisingly well keeping up with the other Slytherins and must have done a lot of research in the month and a half since he received his Hogwarts letter but there was only so much you can learn from books as Harry's ignorance of the mind arts demonstrated. Daphne resolved to help him fill in any gaps in his knowledge and help him to continue to excel in the intra-house political scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't really understand that his treatment was all that bad and his desire to keep it hidden may not be rational but it is a part of who he is. He saved himself from a shitty situation so he is unused to and dislikes opening up to others and revealing what he thinks makes him seem weak.


	6. Chapter Five

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 3, 1991**

Harry suffered from a restless night of sleep, preoccupied with the letter to Madam Bones he had promised to write. It had never dawned on him just how suspicious his winding up on the Dursley's doorstep one night was. (While he obviously couldn't remember it himself he knew his aunt would not have lied about this as it was freakish and unusual and, as long as Harry had known her, she seemed terrified of having any such things remotely related to her and certainly wouldn't invent something freakish happening to her.) If he had been kidnapped and his parents' wills sealed to cover it up, there was a very real possibility Harry should have never been in the Dursley's custody and Madam Bones' investigation would reveal that and with any luck he would never have to go back there again.

This all sounded absolutely fantastic but two things were making Harry hesitant to send the letter. First, Harry did not want anyone to know how pathetic his first few years at the Dursley's had been and second, (tied closely to the first) if Harry sent the letter, the DMLE would undoubtedly talk to the Dursleys which would reveal concern number one but also really, really piss them off. While Harry knew the Dursley's treatment of him was illegal in the muggle world he had no idea what sort of laws,  _if any_ , existed in this seemingly archaic wizarding world, that would deem the Dursley's treatment of him unacceptable. His research prior to coming to Hogwarts had focused on the wizarding world in a broader sense or in the recent political scene and came nowhere close to family law.

On the off chance his parents actually wanted him to go to the Dursleys, which he certainly hoped they weren't that dumb (but they seemed to be Dumbledore cronies and certainly trusted the wrong man as their secret keeper) he would be supremely screwed if he had to go back to the Dursleys this summer after he had brought the wizarding police down on their doorstep. Any good will built between him and Vernon would be obliterated and if he had been locked in his cupboard for a week after turning his teacher's hair blue he did not want to even imagine what would be in store for him come June.

After hours of tossing and turning, running these things over in his mind, Harry's dorm mates began to wake up and Harry decided to get ready for the day. Harry followed Zabini to the shower room so as not to be alone in an area upper year Slytherins went. Zabini seemed to realize what Harry was doing given his raised brow but shrugged and made conversation with Harry about their classes the previous day.

* * *

While at breakfast, Harry's copy of the Daily Prophet was dropped off. Harry blinked at one of the front page headlines in shock. Apparently his sorting was front page news:

_The Boy-Who-Lived, a Slytherin!_  
_By Rita Skeeter_

_Shocking letters reached anxious parents yesterday with startling news. Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived was sorted into Slytherin! This came as quite the surprise to many of the other students and, I am sure, many of us._

_Harry Potter is described to have short black hair, bright green eyes, and to be about average height. Contrary to popularly circulated portrayals, he wears no glasses and his hair is too short to attain the messy locks the Potter men were known for._

_We can only speculate why Potter has been sorted into Slytherin after being heralded as the Light's hero. After all, the Potters have been Gryffindors for generations and his mother was a muggleborn Gryffindor herself. But be assured dear readers, I and the rest of the wizarding world will keep our eyes peeled for any more information about the Boy-Who-Lived._

"Have you read the paper yet, Potter?" Malfoy drawled.

"Why nooo Draco, I was just staring at it hoping it would read itself," Harry said sarcastically, barely paying Malfoy any mind.

"Wasn't Rita Skeeter  _in_ Slytherin?" he asked the table at large.

"Yes," said Tracey, "but she didn't really say anything bad about it. The questioning of your character was just implied."

Harry sighed. He was happy, for once, that he seemed to have mail wards on him, "Do you know any good solicitors?"

"This is a perfectly legal article," Daphne said, "Nothing in it is incorrect or even vicious," she leaned in closer and dropped her voice, "Given current circumstances you would be unable to retain one without, you know."

Ah yes, his absentee magical guardian. Harry had realized this article likely wouldn't be something he could go after but he had wanted to do something to make people more wary of printing articles or books about him. He really wanted to go after the Harry Potter Adventure series as they seemed all too popular and likely to feed into the misperceptions of him that seemed to make people like the Weasley in his year so hostile towards him when he failed to live up to his story-book counterpart.

This settled it for Harry, he needed to send Madam Bones that letter today.

* * *

They had Double Transfiguration after breakfast. Once there, Professor McGonagall gave them a stern lecture and turned her desk into a pig and back. They then took notes until their hands began to cramp up. During the practical part of the lesson they tried to turn matchsticks into needles. Harry got the closest, managing to make his look like a needle even though it was still made of wood. McGonagall seemed unable to look at him without a rather pinched look on her face but she gave him a point for his work. She hovered by Harry's desk for a moment and then begrudgingly went on to mention that his father had been very talented with transfiguration as well.

Next they had their first class with the Gryffindors, Defense Against the Dark Arts. When they were standing outside the Defense classroom Ronald Weasley came up and confronted Harry.

"Potter, you're a filthy, rotten, traitor and you'll get what's coming to you," he promised darkly.

Harry lifted his hand to his chest in mock offense, "Wow, harsh words to hear from my… Now what was it you called yourself again?" Harry asked rhetorically, "Oh yes. Harsh words to hear from my best mate."

Weasley's face turned burgundy clashing horribly with his hair and he pulled out his wand. Harry wondered if Weasley intended to poke him with it as they had yet to manage a spell. Harry's only reaction was to lift an eyebrow.

"No-no f-fighting in the h-h-hall. F-f-five p-p-points from Gr-Gryffindor," Quirrell interrupted them.

What followed was an excruciatingly painful hour. Harry decided halfway through it that Quirrell's stutter was fake as it was so inconsistent. Ten minutes after that he reconsidered, not because it sounded any more real, but because spending so long stuttering would require an inconceivable level of patience. Harry's head began to hurt so he tried to tone him out but it did little to help.

Weasley had continued to glare daggers at him throughout the class. Harry was a bit concerned that things would soon escalate between them (meaning Weasley would cause things to escalate.) Weasley seemed like the type who would be rash enough to try something. Harry was thankful that neither of them had really learned any spells yet.

After lunch they had a free period so Harry asked Tracey and Daphne to walk up to the Owlrey to post his letter to Madame Bones. Hedwig was upset with Harry for not visiting her earlier and it took a lot of coaxing for her to come down. She only accepted his letter once he had begun tying it to a school owl, loudly announcing what he was doing. Hedwig bit his finger to show her displeasure at his unfaithfulness.

Daphne's books arrived with dinner and Harry had to be reminded to go to his detention with Snape. He got there right on time.

* * *

"Enter," Snape said as his proximity charm alerted him to a presence outside of the classroom. The Potter boy came into the room.

"Today you will be emptying jars of expired ingredients," he informed the boy.

The corner of the boy's mouth flickered upward involuntarily in a micro-expression of disgust. Snape felt slightly smug at that.

"Yes sir," the boy said obediently anyway and went to work on the jars Snape had laid out.

After a few minutes of quiet work Snape decided to goad the boy, "I imagine this is not the sort of treatment you expected at Hogwarts," he sneered.

The boy remained silent.

"You will not receive any  _celebrity_  treatment from me. You are not special, boy. You are no better than the other students. I daresay a vast majority of the students are far better than you."

Still the boy said nothing. Snape was starting to become annoyed. He decided to return to what seemed to have helped set the boy off the other night (and if Snape could stop lying to himself, what he really wanted to lambaste the boy for), the boy's father.

"You have the same arrogance as your father," he said, "Although if he was still alive I expect he would have disowned you for being sorted into Slytherin

Snape looked at the boy to see if he was getting any closer to cracking. He noticed a glassy, almost dead look in the boy's eyes. Snape could see the boy disassociating himself from the situation! It was ~~disconcerting~~  annoying.

"Are you even listening to me, boy?" Snape demanded.

"Yes Aun—" the boy cut off abruptly, his eyes falling shut in disbelieving horror as a flush rapidly rose on his face, "Professor Snape," he corrected.

"What did you just say?!"

"No, sir, I obviously was not listening," the boy replied.

Had the boy almost called him Aunt? As in Aunt Petunia? As in ' _Tuney'_  Evans? The very thought of being compared to that wretched creature was nauseating.

The boy made a gagging noise and stepped away from the work table breathing through his mouth.

"What?" it came out harsher than Snape intended.

"Sorry, sir. The last jar was particularly… ripe. I'm trying not add my own vomit to the things I have to clean today," the boy said with perhaps a touch of self-deprecating humor.

"Get back to work."

Snape went to his desk and watched as the boy continued to clean out the jars. Without his constant insults Snape realized that the boy was having a much more difficult time cleaning out the jars than he had noticed. Snape realized this detention was even more unpleasant than he had planned. But  _still_  the boy had not voiced a single complaint. Why?

Just then the boy darted away from the table to vomit in a nearby rubbish bin. As Snape reflexively cast a Bubble-Head charm on himself to spare himself from the odor prickles of what seemed far too much like guilt lapped at his conscious.

"I'm sorry sir, I'll clean it," the boy said pathetically as he hovered over the bin.

"No need," Snape replied then vanished the bin's contents.

The boy looked up at him. He frowned in confusion at the bubble surrounding Snape's head his charm created. The boy's eyes widened in comprehension of the spell's purpose and his expression morphed into one of righteous anger (for which Snape felt a brief flash of satisfaction) but then, just as quickly, the boy's face shuttered closed and his expression went blank again. Snape felt completely disconcerted.

"We're done, Potter. You may leave."

The boy simply nodded at him, gathered his things and left.

Snape's preconceptions of what Harry Potter would be like were completely mismatched with the reality of the boy. Not only was the boy not James Potter reincarnate, the boy's actions and reactions were raising a number of red flags he had for children of, shall we say, unhappy homes. But that was ludicrous.

* * *

Harry fled from Snape's classroom after experiencing what was possibly the most embarrassing hour of his life. He had almost called a professor who already hated him 'Aunt Petunia' and then proceeded to throw up in front of him. Mortifying.

He was eager to get back to his dorm to look at the mind arts books but when he entered the Slytherin common room the room began to quiet suddenly and all eyes turned towards him. Some eyes looked decidedly unfriendly, menacing even. An icy jolt of fear coursed through his veins as he swallowed and tried not to look like he was running towards his dorm room. The laughter that broke out as he shut the door told him he hadn't fooled anyone.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 4, 1991**

The next day they had Charms at ten in the morning, Double Potions at three in the afternoon, and Astronomy at half ten until midnight. They worked on the same spell in Charms as they had on Monday. Harry and a majority of the other student managed to get the charm mostly working but Neville had no luck with it. Harry could see Neville becoming frustrated as the class went on.

Harry and the other students arrived early outside the Potions classroom. When Weasley arrived he shouldered past Harry roughly, "Slimy snake," he muttered.

While Harry had thick skin and honestly couldn't care less what Weasley said about him, he knew that if he did nothing he would be seen as weak. So Harry responded with his strategy of choice: making the other party lose their temper and incriminate themselves.

"You know, that's actually a common misconception," he said, "Snakes actually have quite dry skin much like their relatives the lizard. Don't get me wrong I can see where you're coming from though. I mean you look at a snake and you think to yourself 'I bet that would have a slimy texture' but appearances can be deceiving."

Everyone had looked confused at Harry's impromptu and bizarre lecture but when they noticed how angry Ron was getting and the way he was clenching his fists they understood what Harry was doing.

"But then again," Harry continued thoughtfully, "Sometimes when someone looks like, say, an idiot, acts like an idiot, and talks like an idiot, they really are just an idiot."

Harry ducked out of the path of Weasley's fist who had correctly deduced he was the idiot Harry spoke of.

Snape chose that moment to appear, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley. We do not fight in the hallway like muggles."

Weasley glared daggers at Harry. Harry began to wonder if Weasley would ever learn or if he would just continue to use Harry as his personal scapegoat.

Harry sat with Blaise, which Zabini had begun to insist Harry calll him, for class. Snape had given them an intimidating speech then fired off questions at random. Harry had gotten the question about the difference between monskwood and wolfsbane to which he answered that they were different names for the same plant. Snape had asked Malfoy for another name for the plant which was aconite. Throughout this entire time the bushy haired Gryffindor girl who was sorted before Neville had been waving her hand around in the air desperately.

"Miss Granger, have you not yet realized that I am calling on students at random?" Some the students chuckled. Harry thought Snape was being a bit harsh, especially when Granger looked so devastated.

Once Snape had revealed the instructions for a potion students from each table, including both Harry and Weasley, went to get the ingredients from the potions cabinet. When Harry turned around to go back to his table he was balancing three large glass jars of ingredients. Weasley, whose anger had not abated in the slightest, slammed his shoulder into him. Harry was thrown off-balance, cursing himself for losing track of his surroundings. He began to fall and in that split second Harry figured he could either attempt to regain his balance or protect the jars. He went with the option that he, at the very least, wouldn't have to clean up.

He was able to tuck in his body and roll when he hit the ground. He landed more roughly than he used to, being out of practice and trying to protect the jars, and he had the wind knocked out of him and had probably gotten a few bruises. He set down most of the jars and sprung back up to his feet as quickly as he could feeling embarrassed. When he noticed the entire room was looking at him he blushed and busied himself picking up the jars.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor! Weasley, you'll have detention with me for a week!" Snape shouted once the he recovered from a state of stunned silence. He looked seething mad at having a schoolyard brawl occur in his classroom. Weasley, very idiotically, protested earning him another week of detention. The Gryffindors, and Granger especially, looked apocalyptically furious with Weasley for losing Gryffindor forty points.

Back at the table Blaise looked at Harry as if he was questioning his sanity, "They weren't worth it, you know. Weasley just wanted you to drop some of the ingredients," Harry, still blushing, nodded having since realized that himself "You all right?"

"I'm fine," said Harry said shortly, "Let's just get started, okay?" Blaise didn't say anything further, which Harry appreciated, and they worked on their potion.

Snape prowled around the room during class which had the effect of distracting many of the students. It didn't help that he was especially angry. Finnegan and Weasley's cauldron melted and their potion got onto a few students sitting nearby causing painful boils to spring out wherever it had touched their skin. Snape looked almost reluctant to let Weasley leave.

Harry thought his and Blaise's potion looked decent and was satisfied with it. When class was over Snape asked Harry to stay back.

Once they were alone Snape spoke, "You look like you know how to take falls." There was in implicit question.

"Uh, yeah I've taken my fair share."

"Under what circumstances?" Snape asked.

"Well, when I was little my cousin Dudley and his gang—of friends, used to enjoy beating me up at school," Harry said while averting his gaze from Snape's eye remembering that some wizards could read minds.

"You may go, I will see you in class tomorrow." Harry booked it out of the room and headed off to the library.

* * *

Snape was having a bad day to say the least. He had been summoned to Albus' office after breakfast. Albus had asked him questions about who Potter's friends were and how he was doing in the political climate. Snape had been doing his level best to avoid thinking about the boy and having an hour long discussion about him didn't exactly help that. Snape neglected to tell Albus about any of his suspicions regarding the boy's home life because, well, the less he thought about it the better.

This afternoon's class had been a low point as well. Outside the classroom he had heard enough of the conversation to know Potter had not said anything that would provoke a reasonable person to take a swing at him. He also saw Weasley slam into Potter during class. He had, like Weasley, predicted Harry would drop the ingredients to avoid falling. When the boy had tucked them into himself tighter and taken the fall Snape's heart had leapt up into his throat. Harry had surprised him again by falling so  _well_. It was a maneuver that had to be practiced, he knew from experience. He held Harry back hoping that the boy took Karate or something.

What also worried him was the way the Harry had consciously shifted his gaze from his own. Someone must have told him about Legilimency, but why they did this worried him. He knew he had gone to a meeting with Dumbledore. Had Dumbledore tried to use it on him? Had the boy managed to notice him if he did? He wouldn't put it passed Albus to try something. The man had been scrambling since July.

Merlin, Snape did not want to be thinking about any of this. He did not want to sympathize or worry over a Potter. He was beginning to think that it might be a losing battle.

* * *

When Harry got to the library he went over to the table Daphne and Tracey were at. Tracey punched him in the arm, "Hey, what was that for?"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack you dummy! Why did you let yourself fall? You could have really hurt yourself!"

"So your solution is to hurt me?" he held up his hands in surrender as she drew her arm back again, "I don't know, I thought I would have to clean up the ingredients if I dropped them," he shrugged.

"Snape saw the whole thing, Weasley would have had to pick them up," Daphne said.

Harry shrugged again, "Look, Snape gave me a lecture at the beginning of the year just for being related to my dad. He hates me. How should I know what he'd do?"

"I thought he looked worried," Tracey said. Harry gave her an incredulous look.

"Do you know any defensive spells?" Daphne asked.

Harry blushed, "No, and I doubt I will learn them in Defense any time soon.

"You need to learn a few,  _especially_  now that someone has physically attacked you," Daphne said.

Harry resolved to look into spells ASAP and practice that weekend. They worked on their homework from Defense and History until supper.

* * *

Supper was not going well for Ron Weasley or the Harry Potter is a Dark Lord Theory. Lavender and Parvati had quickly told as many people as they could find why Gryffindor was down forty points from lunch. The two were so accomplished of gossips that all four houses and the staff table knew what happened in Harry Potter's first Potions class before supper ended and most were discussing it.

"So you decided it would be a good idea to attack Harry Potter"

"-the Slytherin,"

"-during the middle of a Potions class?"

"Your very first Potions class?" Fred and George asked Ron. They generally approved of rule breaking as long as it was clever, but this was just stupid.

"He wasn't supposed to fall! He was just supposed to drop the ingredients," Ron argued. This reasoning had won Ron no sympathy from anyone yet.

Fred and George sighed, they had known Ron was stupid but not on this scale. Percy Weasley, the prefect, had taken Ron's transgression as a personal insult and proceeded to lecture him throughout the entire meal. For once, many people had chimed in and nodded along with the lecture.

The Harry Potter is a Dark Lord Theory was falling out of favor because, apparently, getting knocked to the ground then getting up  _embarrassed_  about it and then not even retaliating was on the list of Things Dark Lords Just Don't Do. The theory would not have been so thoroughly trashed if the students had known what Harry was thinking. He fully intended to retaliate. It wouldn't be physical, but it would be public and effective. For Harry too, was not enjoying his supper. He did not like being embarrassed and if this story was just embarrassing for him.

* * *

**Ministry of Magic, London, England September 4, 1991**

Madame Bones eyed the glowing 23:29 on the clock as she worked her way through the last of the correspondence on her desk. She was used to working any and all hours in her role as Head of the DMLE. She looked at the final letter on her desk which was written on cheap parchment and addressed to her in a somewhat unpracticed, possibly childish, scrawl. At least this one looked like it wouldn't take long. Opening the letter and reading it she quickly revised that opinion.

> _Madam A. Bones,_
> 
> _This is Harry Potter. I write to you because I am concerned about the circumstances surrounding how I came to be placed with my current guardians. I had been completely unaware of the existence of magic until I received my Hogwarts letter. I have since found out that as a child born to magical parents and as the heir to an Ancient and Noble House, I was supposed to have been in touch with a magical guardian. I have no idea who my magical guardian is supposed to be. At Gringotts I was told my parents' wills were sealed and had somehow expired so I really don't know why it was determined that I should live with my mum's sister and her family. They told me I was left on their doorstep one night in a basket so I'm not sure even they have a better idea than me._
> 
> _My main concern is figuring out who my magical guardian is and getting a new one because I can't really do anything in the magical world at the moment. I don't want this to become a media circus. Also I seem to have some sort of mail wards on me so I'm not really sure what the best way to contact me would be, sorry._
> 
> _Thanks,_
> 
> _Harry J. Potter_

After finishing the letter Madam Bones ran her hands over her face. This was Bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon Snape is a bullying dick. In this story he's going to grow out of that but it won't happen overnight. In his POVs he refers to Harry as the boy because he is trying to separate him from James


	7. Chapter Six

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland 4 September 1991**

After returning to his dorm that night Harry was dying to take a shower. Once the Dursleys had allowed to take showers whenever he wanted, showers had become part of his ritual to de-stress. If he focused on the pressure of the water hitting the back of his head he was able to drive out his other thoughts. Whick, come to think of it, must have been a rudimentary way to practice Occlumency. The water pressure at Hogwarts could be adjusted to a near bruising force and Harry was eager to try to forget about his embarrassment with the Weasley situation and the likelihood that his letter to Madam Bones was likely to result in an uncovering of his past.

When he had asked Blaise if he was planning to shower tonight, Blaise had waved him off and said he would do it in the morning (this Harry knew to be a lie as Blaise had been getting up progressively later and later throughout the week). However, when he saw Nott gathering his toiletries and towel Harry decided to follow him so he wouldn't be alone.

He and Nott passed a couple of second years leaving the lower years' showers and when they entered they were the only two there. But as they were getting undressed two other students entered. Harry thought nothing of it at first but when he glanced their way he saw neither of them had any shower stuff and their wands were drawn.

"So… _Potter_ ," the one Harry thought was named Bletchley sneered, "We hear that a first year Weasley can beat you up. We'd like to give it a try ourselves."

Harry's stomach dropped. He stood there barefoot, wandless, and clad only in his boxers as the third years closed in on him. He met eyes with Nott who had paused in taking off his robe.

Nott looked away quickly, "Er, I'll just leave then," he said. He slipped his robe back on, gathered up his stuff and rushed out the room.

Bletchley and the other boy, Higgs, snickered.

Harry felt as if he was back in Little Whinging, being chased by Dudley's gang as everybody else looked the other way. Thoughts of the wider political situation in Slytherin and of consequences for any actions vanished from his mind, replaced with the single minded desperation to make it out of this in one piece.

"You shouldn't be in Slytherin," Higgs said, "You and your parents ruined so many of our parents' lives. People think you were strong enough to take down the Dark Lord? You can't even take a first year Gryffindor?" Higgs spat at him.

Harry was only listening with one ear as he tried to figure out how the fuck he was going to make it out of here still standing. He was wandless, practically naked, against two third years who would know enough magic to make this hurt. Possibly kill him if they got creative enough or carried away. Higgs had begun to approach him, standing nearly directly in between Harry and Bletchley.

Harry pretended to cower and back away from him. Emboldened, Higgs approached him continuing his rant. Harry had backed to the wall. Then he quickly braced himself against it and pushed off, leaping up at Higgs.

Higgs, who was mid-rant, was caught completely off guard and Harry tackled him sending the two tumbling to the floor.

"Diffindo!" Bletchley cast behind them.

The spell hit both Harry and Higgs cutting into their sides. Harry punched Higgs in the face with his right hand as he tried to grapple Higgs' wand away with his left. There was a satisfying crunch letting Harry know that he had broken Higgs' nose. Higgs' hand reflectively loosened on his wand and Harry was able to knock it away from him. Harry had felt a few more spells slice into him during the struggle.

Seeing that Higgs was subdued, Harry sprang up off of him and rushed Bletchley. Bletchley was wearing a peculiar expression that was a mix of hate-filled rage and fear.

" _Impedimenta!"_  Bletchley cast and Harry felt as if ropes were pulling him backwards but he fought through it. Bletchley looked at him in terror. By then Harry was in range to grab Bletchley's wand hand and he used his grip to pull Bletchley towards the punch he struck across Bletchley's face. As Bletchley whimpered Harry twisted his wrist until Bletchley's wand clattered to the ground.

"WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?!" a voiced boomed in the room. Harry belatedly recognized it as Snape's.

The adrenaline rushed out of Harry and suddenly his knees were giving out under him. He tried to sink to the floor with as much dignity as he could muster. As he looked down at himself he realized he had been hit with more cutting curses than he had noticed and realized some of his light-headedness was due to blood loss.

While Harry took an inventory over himself Bletchley spluttered out a response, Harry's attention was distracted when Blaise shoved passed the students loitering in the doorway one of whom Harry was surprised to see was Nott.

"Sorry—I didn't realize—stupid of me, should've come with you," Blaise said, "You need to get you to the infirmary,"

Harry shook his head in protest not wanting the school or, God forbid, the  _Prophet_  catching wind of what happened.

Snape cleared his throat, catching their attention, "If you don't object, Potter, I would prefer to keep this matter in-house," Snape said as he cast a spell over Harry that actually drew some blood back into his body and sealed his wounds.

Harry looked at him grateful, "No objections, sir."

* * *

As the three were out to the common room (thankfully after Harry was permitted to put on a robe) Harry was surprised to see how many students were gathered there. He saw Daphne and Tracey white-faced and sent them a reassuring smile. The presence of so many students reminded Harry of the politics of the situation. He realized that with his robes on, he looked hardly any worse for the wear, certainly better than the other two who were nursing shiners. Harry kept his head high and did his best to look indifferent. Hopefully this would cause others to be more wary of attacking him in the future.

"This…incident," Snape said to the roomful of students, "will go no further than this room. It is in all of your best interests that this remains quiet."

Snape stared down the students until they nodded their acceptance. Then Snape escorted the three to his office though the passage that connected it to the common room. After healing Bletchley and Higgs, who were given three months of detention, Harry and Snape were alone. Snape had him shuck his robe off and began applying an ointment to his sealed cuts.

"Really Potter? I'm having to save your neck twice in one day?" Snape asked. Although Harry couldn't detect his usual sneer.

Harry did not feel this was an accurate characterization of what had happened. He hadn't  _needed_  Snape to save him, "Thank you, sir," Harry said instead.

"You have a month of detention, Potter."

Harry wanted to lash out at him about the unfairness of it all but he bit down on any response.

"You did not initiate either fight," Snape explained, "But the students in Slytherin who wish you ill would likely take issue with you if you didn't get in any trouble. Then things might escalate further," Harry supposed that could be true but he didn't have to like it, "Besides, you need to learn how to defend yourself with a wand."

Harry looked at him in surprise.

After applying the ointment to his cuts and even another kind to the bruises Harry had received from his fall earlier that day, Snape escorted him back to his dorm.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland 5 September 1991**

The next morning Harry reassured Daphne and Tracey that he was fine (the prefects had forced them back to bed and didn't allow them to wait up for him.) He and Blaise had grown closer after Blaise apologized half a dozen times for not following Harry's hint and accompanying him to the showers. Harry was also startled to learn that it had been Nott who had alerted the prefects to what was happening (although Nott warned on pain of death not to reveal that to anyone else). Harry was so used to people looking the other way when he got beat up that it hadn't even occurred to him that Nott could be getting help.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw a headline on the Daily Prophet at breakfast.

> _The Boy-Who-Lived, Attacked by a Fellow Student!_  
>  _By Rita Skeeter_

However, as he read further, he quickly realized it was about him and Weasley, not the upper year Slytherins.

> _As I promised my readers, I have kept my eye out for any more news on The Boy-Who-Lived. I received a shocking report from my sources detailing a fight Harry Potter was in with Gryffindor Ronald Westley. Apparently Westley attacked Potter during the middle of a Potions class!_
> 
> _Westley had reportedly warned Harry the day before that he would "get what's coming to him." Ronald Westley attacked Harry, throwing him to the ground. But do not be concerned dear readers! Harry managed to escape with minimal injuries! He reportedly stood right back up and allowed the professor to address the assailant._
> 
> _I am sure all my readers are horrified to hear that our famous Boy-Who-Lived was attacked within Hogwarts and hope that the assailant is dealt with harshly. Hopefully no one else will dare attack Harry Potter again!_

Harry nearly laughed at the irony.

At the Gryffindor table the elder Weasley brothers despaired at the article in the paper. They had made an unspoken agreement not to tell their mother what had happened, knowing it would end in a howler that would humiliate all of them. They looked at each other wordlessly deciding to be late to tomorrow's breakfast. None of them bothered to tell Ron but it was unlikely they could persuade him to be late for a meal anyways.

* * *

**DMLE, Ministry of Magic, London, England 5 September 1991**

Auror John Dawlish sat at his desk which sat kitty-corner to his partner's, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was filing out parchment work from an arrest they had made the day prior while Shacklebolt read The  _Daily Prophet_. If you asked Dawlish he would say such actions amounted to a gross misuse of paid time, but indeed few people ever asked for Dawlish's opinions.

"Looks like schoolyard brawls are page 3 news these days," Shacklebolt commented putting the paper down.

Dawlish grunted acknowledgement. He had of course already read the paper, although he had done so over breakfast.

"This'll be a blow to the Light's effort to pass Weasley's Muggle Protection Act," Shacklebolt continued, "The Weasley name already had tarnished the bill. This won't help"

Unlike a majority of ministry workers, Dawlish did not preoccupy himself with considering the bills before the Wizengamot and the politicking that went behind passing them. He only concerned himself with doing his job as best as he could so he could earn his salary to support the family who had sacrificed so much for him.

Dawlish's situation was a bit unusual. He was the first of his family to attend Hogwarts and he didn't fall into the three usual categories: the nobility, the gentry, or the muggleborns. Dawlish was a pureblood but his family only owned a moderately successful trunk shop. Like the majority of wizarding Britain, the Dawlish family attended one of the smaller magical schools until they received their O.W.L.S. and then apprenticed under other members of their family.

The family shop had already been overstaffed considering it was supporting both his uncle's family and his own. John Dawlish was his father's second son and his uncle had three sons as well. With the possibility of the family shop being responsible for five or more households, the family quickly realized their shop wouldn't be able to sustain them all. John Dawlish had displayed an aptitude in magic far exceeding those of his cousins and siblings so their family decided to send him to Hogwarts to allow them all a better future. The family had to sacrifice greatly in the way of personal comforts to afford to do so.

Attending Hogwarts opened a lot of doors. Very few of the other magical schools taught passed the O.W.L.S. and, as such, any profession needing N.E.W.T.s was almost entirely out of the question. John Dawlish was always aware of the responsibility and expectations the family had placed on his shoulders and this affected how he approached his time at Hogwarts. He had been an unsociable, studious Ravenclaw and had proven himself when he had broken the record for Outstanding N.E.W.T.s.

Dawlish found the nobility and gentry's revulsion of the Weasley's family mind-numbingly stupid. Sure Arthur Weasley was strangely obsessed with muggles, but the hostility predated Arthur and seemed to be mostly due to their relative "poverty." Only the nobility and the outlandishly wealthy could think a head of a ministry department who could afford to send six, and what would likely be seven, children to Hogwarts could be considered impoverished. Arthur Weasley never had the nicest robes but Dawlish highly doubted his family ever had to worry about where their next meal would come from or whether they would have a place to live next month like many of the families Dawlish knew in his youth did.

Dawlish's introspection was cut short by Madam Bones' secretary requesting him and Shacklebolt meet Bones in her office.

Upon entering her office, Dawlish observed Madam Bones as wearing the same robes she had yesterday and looked as though she could not have slept more than two hours on the cot she technically was not permitted to transfigure in her office.

"Aurors Shacklebolt, Dawlish," she said, "I am assigning you to what may be one of the most high profile cases this department has seen in the last ten years. Before we proceed I need your assurances you will treat this case with your highest level of discretion."

"You have my assurance ma'am," Dawlish responded immediately. honestly he was slightly offended she needed to ask. It was department policy to keep investigations strictly confidential. Shacklebolt likewise assured her of his discretion.

Madam Bones handed them both files, "We are dealing with a potential 803-02," the department code for a child abduction of the second-degree, "the potential victim is Harry James Potter."

Shacklebolt let out startled noise and began to ask a question before Bones prompted them to read the files.

The first document was a copy of a letter sent to Bones by Potter. The next was a denied request for information concerning Potter's guardians, then the order to make Potter's guardian information confidential (filed by Albus Dumbledore), then a record of the sealing of the Potters' wills, excerpts from the record of the session that motion was filed which showed it to be initiated by Dumbledore, a denied request to access the will which noted that it expired November 1, 1986.

"Dumbledore's name seems to be popping up a lot," Dawlish commented.

"He is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Shacklebolt reasoned.

"At this time Mr. Dumbledore is a person of interest. I'm sure that won't be a problem, Mr. Shacklebolt," she told him rather than asked.

"No ma'am," Shacklebolt said, cowed.

Madam Bones continued, "Luckily Mr. Potter's address is still listed. Sign these papers and you'll be able to learn it."

They signed them and Dawlish could suddenly read the line that had been obscured on the page, 'Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England.'

"I would like you to go to Mr. Potter's address and attempt to make contact with his muggle guardians," Madam Bones finished.

* * *

**Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England 5 September 1991**

Dawlish and Shacklebolt walked down the street of the muggle neighborhood dressed in muggle suits and under heavy notice-me-nots. As they approached Number 4 Dawlish pulled out his wand to cast a diagnostic charm to identify any possible wards on the property.

He blinked in confusion at the results.

"What is it?" Shacklebolt asked.

"I don't recognize these wards," Dawlish said in disbelief.

"John Dawlish the Wise doesn't know something? Never thought I'd see the day," Shacklebolt joked.

Dawlish stopped himself from rolling his eyes, "This must be a highly advanced ward. The detection charms can't even determine whether its intent based, the exact perimeter or how it's being powered."

"Sounds above our pay grade. We'll have to tell Bones to bring in the Unspeakables." Shacklebolt shrugged, "Dawlish, nearly the whole time we've been here a woman in Number 7 has been peering out her window at us," Shacklebolt added as he had been assigned lookout.

Dawlish knew better from his training to turn and look, "We're under notice-me-nots."

"Exactly, she shouldn't be able to notice us unless she had a strong reason to be watching Number 4. Either that or she isn't a muggle."

"We can check the residency registry when we get back."

Unable to approach Number 4 due to its wards, the two began to head back to the apparition point near the park.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 5, 1991**

The change in how the rest of the students treated Harry was remarkable. While only the Slytherins knew about his run in with Higgs and Bletchley, his fight with Weasley seemed to relax the students in the other three houses. They no longer shot him nervous or fearful glances. Some even smiled at him or tried to talk to him. Harry felt like he was getting whiplash. Slytherins seemed to respect him more as well (although that was certainly more to do with his fight with the upper year Slytherins than getting knocked to the ground by Weasley.) Even the teachers seemed to relax and no longer eyed him suspiciously.

During Transfiguration Professor McGonagall no longer looked quite so much like she had she had just bitten into a lemon when she looked at Harry. Harry decided to hang around after class to ask her about his father. He had decided that it might be a good way to endear himself to the professors if he asked them about his parents. Although, if he was being honest, his actions were compelled more by genuine curiosity than any favor-seeking.

"Professor?" Harry asked after the rest of the students had filed out of the room, "The other day you said my dad was good at Transfiguration. I was just- I was just wondering... would you be able to tell me more about him? Or my mum?" he asked shyly.

McGonagall's expression softened from its resting pinched look, "I only really knew your parents as students. They were both excellent students. Well, your father always had talent but became more successful once he stopped spending all of his time devoted to pranks. James was a chaser for Gryffindor's quidditch team, one of the best we've had in the past few decades. Both he and Lily became the Head Girl and Boy their seventh year. I didn't know them personally so I can't say much beyond that."

"Thank you, professor," Harry smiled at her. He made as if to leave but hesitated, "Is there anyone I  _could_  talk to who might know more about them?" he asked.

McGonagall thought of a moment, "Well if you want to find out more about your father you could talk to Hagrid. Your father and his friends always imposed on his company. Perhaps Madam Hooch. His only close friend who survived the war would be Remus Lupin," Harry repeated the names in his head to remember them, "For your mother you could talk to Professor Flitwick. I believe Lily was considering pursuing a Mastery in Charms," McGonagall's lips turned up in an ever so slight smile, "You could talk to Professor Snape as well. He was close friends with your mother."

"What?!" Harry asked before he could think better of it.

"Oh yes. Although they had a falling out during their last few years here so perhaps it would be best to leave that stone unturned."

"Thank you, again," Harry told her.

* * *

**Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England 5 September 1991**

Dawlish and Shacklebolt stood uncomfortably by as the newly recruited Unspeakable team examined Number 4 Privet Drive's perimeter. Unspeakables Croaker and Bode were in muggle clothing that would be more appropriate in the Victorian era and on a 1700s pirate ship, respectively. Neither Dawlish nor Shacklebolt were comfortable mentioning the inappropriateness of their dress to the Unspeakables so they just stood silently by praying to Magic their notice-me-nots were uncommonly strong.

There were no records of magical residents living on Privet Drive apart from Mr. Potter but their watcher at Number 7 was back. The curtain to Number 4 flickered open as well and Dawlish saw a thin blonde woman peering out at them.

"Blood wards," Croaker announced adjusting his tall black top hat, "Just shy of a decade old. Powered by magic of the residents and the love between the blood relatives. I wish Minett could take a look at these," he said to Bode, "The power of love? HA!" he scoffed, "No, these wards are being powered almost exclusively by the magic of one resident."

"I'm sorry, could you explain what all that means?" Dawlish asked, he had been trying to take notes to keep up.

Bode and Croaker started and looked over at them as if they were mildly surprised Dawlish and Shacklebolt were even there.

"The wards are blood-based, created by the blood of the resident themself... Mr. Potter I suppose in this case, or a direct blood parent," Croaker explained in a tone that suggested he thought Dawlish was a bit slow.

"Yes," Dawlish said having known that part, "But could you explain the part about it being powered by Potter's magic and not the... power of love?" Dawlish cringed as he said the last bit.

"Oh, now that's a more reasonable questions," Croaker stated bluntly, "The ward was likely intended to be powered by both the resident's magic and the love between them and their blood relatives but it appears there's likely no love lost there."

"Or there was an error in the ward casting," Bode added.

"I suppose there is a slight possibility," Croaker allowed.

"How large of a possibility?" Shacklebolt asked.

"In practice, for an error to be made in the casting but the ward to function well but from different sources? Negligible."

"But still interesting from a theoretical standpoint," Bode said.

"Dawlish almost sighed in frustration. This was why no one liked working with Unspeakables; they often lost sight of the practical in pursuit of the theoretical.

The door to Number 4 opened and the blonde woman peered out of the crack, "What are you two doing loitering out there?" she asked looking at Shacklebolt and Dawlish, "Shoo, off with you or I'll phone the police."

"Is it safe to enter the property?" Shacklebolt asked the Unspeakables.

The woman let out a shriek as Dawlish and the two Unspeakables shut their eyes in exasperation. Sine Shacklebolt had brought them to her attention, she was no able to notice the Unspeakables who looked like they were on their way to a fancy dress party.

"It's safe. The ward is intent-based," Bode said.

"FREAKS!" the woman shouted over him.

Shacklebolt cautiously approached pulling out his badge, "Hello ma'am were with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—" the woman slammed the door shut, "we would like to ask you some…" Shacklebolt trailed off.

"That went well," Dawlish said dryly.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland 5 September 1991**

An unnatural hush fell over the Great Hall during dinner when a large silver ghost-like feline flew through the door and flew up to the professor's table.

"A patronous," Daphne looking at it with minor awe. This prompted a discussion at the table of what exactly a patronous was.

Dumbledore was absent from dinner but following disappearance of the patronous McGonagall left the Hall after stopping by Snape to say something. Around ten minutes later Snape came to their table and approached Harry.

"Your presence has been requested by some visitors, "he grimaced, "I am to accompany you and supervise."

Harry got up and followed Snape (prompting several whispered conversations around the Hall). A heavy weight fell in Harry's stomach as he realized that the visitor might have been prompted by his letter to Madam Bones.

Harry was led to a room near the main entrance when he entered the room he saw two men in blue uniform robes and a woman.

"Hello Mr. Potter," she said, "I am Madam Amelia Bones from the DMLE and these are Aurors Dawlish and Shacklebolt. We would like to discuss the letter you sent me."

Harry shot Snape a look, "Can we do so privately?" he asked.

"We cannot interview minors without guardians present. While at Hogwarts, your head of house serves  _in loco parentis_ ," she said, "May we interview Mr. Potter?" she asked Snape.

Snape consented. Madam Bones asked if Harry was willing to be interviewed and he agreed.

"These are the aurors I have assigned to your case. I have the highest confidence in them. Auror Dawlish will ask you a few questions," Madam Bones said motioning towards the white man to identify him as Dawlish.

"Good evening Mr. Potter," Dawlish said, "We are here to follow up on your letter reporting a potential abduction and magical guardian neglect."

Snape let out a strangled surprised noise. Harry shifted in his seat, studiously avoiding making eye contact with Snape.

Dawlish continued undaunted, "This quill," he motioned to a quill that was floating on its own and writing rapidly on a parchment, "is a dicta-quill. It will record everything that is said. It cannot record gestures and tones. Mr. Potter, Ministry records indicate you live at Number 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging in Surrey, England. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Who do you live with?"

"I live with Vernon and Petunia Dursley, they're my aunt and uncle, and my cousin Dudley," Harry said.

"How long have you lived there?"

Harry shrugged, "As long as I can remember."

"To your understanding, how did you come to live with your muggle relatives?"

"Well, um my aunt Petunia told me that they had found me in a basket on their doorstep one morning. Before the milk man arrived."

"Do you believe this account?"

"Yeah. It's something strange and Petunia seems to have dedicated her life to being as normal as possible. She invent something that sounded freakier than what really happened."

Harry saw Dawlish and Shacklebolt exchange glances. Something twisted in his stomach.

"We attempted to visit your relatives today," Dawlish said.

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Is your aunt thin and blonde-haired?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"She called us freaks and slammed the door in our faces."

Harry was almost bowled over with relief. They weren't on his relatives' side. He felt inexplicably light, "Yeah that sounds like her," he said.

"To be fair, out of the four of us there one was dressed like a pirate and another like a character from a Sherlock Holmes novel," Dawlish said.

Harry let out a startled laugh. He could tell Dawlish was fishing for information but Harry decided to trust them a bit, "Well, if she knew what you are it wouldn't matter to her what you were wearing."

"What do you mean?" Dawlish asked gently.

Suddenly making eye contact with Dawlish became too difficult Harry looked down at his hands, "You're wizards. She'd think you're freaks no matter what you wore."

There was a pause, "Harry, you're a wizard too. Does your aunt think you're a freak?"

Harry was suddenly overcome with the visceral terror of 'Oh God they're going to find out' but this feeling was paired with, and almost overwhelmed by, the elation of 'Oh my God I can tell someone and they will believe me.' Harry began talking.

"Yes she does. She hates me for it," Harry scanned the faces of the aurors and Madam Bones. He was reassured to see they weren't glaring or looking at him with disbelief.

"Do you think your aunt and uncle wanted you to live with them?"

Harry laughed, "God no. They made that pretty clear."

"How so?"

"They told so. Regularly. They said never wanted me, that I was a burden forced on them, that they considered sending me to an orphanage or out on the streets," they still looked like they believed him, "I had to 'earn my keep' so they made me do a lot of work."

"Harry, some Unspeakables took a look at the wards surrounding your residence," Dawlish said. Harry was confused by the  _non sequitur_ before Dawlish continued, "the wards are supposed to be powered equally by your magic and the love between you and your blood relations. In reality they are being powered almost exclusively by you."

_Oh_ , the auror was saying that they believed him. No, not only that they believed him but that they  _knew_  he was telling the truth. Harry's relief was palpable. He felt practically weightless. He began to tell them everything. About the chores, the cupboard, Dudley's gang, the starvation, the photos. Once he started he felt as if he couldn't stop.

He could tell Madam Bones and the aurors were trying to maintain a professional decorum but Harry could see that listening to what had happened to him was making them angry. Not at him but  _for_  him. By the time he had gathered the courage to look at Snape the man looked catatonic.

After a long pause in which the adults in the room absorbed what Harry had said, Dawlish directed the conversation back towards Harry's absentee magical guardian, "Prior to attending Hogwarts who had talked to you about the wizarding world?"

"Just professor McGonagall."

"Has anyone contacted you claiming to me your magical guardian since you've been at Hogwarts?"

"No."

"Have you ever spoken directly with Albus Dumbledore?" Dalwish asked.

"Yeah actually. He called me to his office the first day of classes. Why does that matter?"

"It may not. But we need to pursue any lead we have," Dawlish didn't expand further. "Did Mr. Dumbledore talk to you about your guardians?"

"Yeah, kind of. Well  _he_  asked me in to try to make me move houses because Slytherin wasn't 'appropriate' but when Professor McGonagall visited she gave me a key to  _my_  vault at Gringotts. She didn't know why Hogwarts had it so I asked Dumbledore," Harry grew agitated as he recalled the meeting, "Dumbledore claimed that my parents had given the key to him to give to whoever raised me. He says he tried to contact the Dursleys to give it to them but that they didn't want to meet up with him."

* * *

**Diagon Alley London, England September 5, 1991**

Rita Skeeter smirked at the plebian writers in the staff room at the  _Daily Prophet_. She worked freelance but had been called in by the Editor in Chief, Barnabas Cuffe. Likely to congratulate her on her recent Potter stories.

When she entered Cuffe's office she was unpleasantly surprised to see Albus Dumbledore sitting in front of Cuffe's desk looking far too pleased with himself.

"Rita," Cuffe began, "Mr. Dumbledore has taken issue with some of your recent articles concerning Mr. Potter and the happenings at Hogwarts," he shot her a look that said 'I'm sorry but my hands are tied here.' The useless man.

"Ms. Skeeter," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "While I understand the public's interest in Mr. Potter I'm afraid that the  _Prophet_  simply cannot publish every little escapade that goes on at Hogwarts. It interferes with teacher's abilities to maintain order and can lead to harm for the families that are involved for any silly action their teenaged child might take."

Rita had to endure 15 more minutes of Dumbledore's lectures, inquiries into her sources, and outlines of how he thought she should do her job. She wanted to strangle the man with his beard.

They came to an "agreement" on what could be published and Rita stormed out of the meeting. She had never liked Dumbledore and his transparent attempts at politicking and manipulation. A source had reported that there might be a promising story about all of Dumbledore's dirty secrets if you knew who to ask but Rita hadn't pursued it. No longer! She was going to find all there dirt there was to have on Albus Dumbledore and see how he liked being threatened into compliance!

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unplottable Location, Scotland September 5, 1991**

When Albus returned to the castle late that evening he was waylaid outside his living quarters by Minerva.

"Albus! The aurors were here earlier today. They met with Mr. Potter and—"

"You allowed this?" Albus cut her off. The aurors had talked to the boy! By Merlin, had the boy contacted them himself?

"Of course. I had Severus accompany them as he's Mr. Potter's Head of House," Minerva said.

Albus sighed internally. Why couldn't other people see how everything tied together and why certain things had to be done a certain way? He led Minvera up into his office so they could talk privately.

"Did the aurors say why they wanted to speak with Mr. Potter?"

"They said they wanted to ask him questions about a letter he had sent in. Albus, they said there was an ongoing investigation!" Minerva continued worriedly.

"I'm sure there is no cause for concern," Albus lied.

"…Albus," Minvera began hesitantly, "Do you think this could be about his guardians? I did tell you they were the worst kinds of muggles. They never told him about magic! We never should have left him there. Do you think I should tell the aurors? "

This was precisely how Albus was worried events would play out. Damn the boy! Now Albus would be forced to do some truly regrettable things, "You have no reason to worry Minerva," he said making a calming motion with his left hand as he adjusted his grip on the Elder Wand under the desk with his right.

"How can you say that Albus?"

"I'm so sorry," Albus said earnestly, "Obliviate!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm departing greatly from the JKR approved expanded universe. One school in Britain (three is the entirety of Euroupe?) with around 40 kids/grade would not be enough to sustain the society in the books. Hogwarts is an elite school. Muggleborns attend for a variety of reasons I may lay out later.
> 
> Some of my favorite fantasy/sci-fi books explore themes in the real world and provide social critique. I don't pretend I'm on par with such authors but I'm going to do this in my story. Get psyched to explore themes of racism, classism, sexism, democracy, and abuse culture through magical allegories. I'm not sorry if you think this makes my story "too political"
> 
> By the way there will be explicitly gay characters

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any or any of its characters they belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers


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